My name is Marco Dunn. I’m about 34 years old, married to my long-time girlfriend Juana, have a son named Kyle and I work as a security guard of the football field in my old high-school, Sentry Indiana.
Let me let you in a secret. I am an unbreakable person. My bones don’t break that easily and I don’t get sick easily. Hell, I don’t even remember getting sick in my whole life or have any scratch. No, really, I’m not kidding! I am unbreakable. My body reacts to injuries and sickness in a certain way that doctors find it impossible. Not that any doctor discovered anything about this secret I have.
In the morning, I’m just some regular guy looking after the school and protect my football spectators from any threat that might come their way. But at night, I go to crowded places like train stations and subway stations, find out if anything is abnormal and I solve the case. I solve one case a night and that’s it. I don’t want to stay out too late and let my wife worry.
You see, besides being able to avoid injuries and sickness, I have the ability to see if someone has done something wrong by contact. Now, if you hadn’t done anything and you touch me, I won’t see a thing, but if you have committed a crime and you touch me, I can find out exactly what happened.
I never knew I had this power if it weren’t for that accident and my encounter with Jacques. You can say that I, in a way, owe it all to him.
It all started during my return from Dallas back to New York City. Juana and I had some difficult times and we began to grow more and more apart until she resolved to sleep in the room under the stairs. I went to Dallas to look for a new security job at that time, and I went back to New York to wait for an answer. We never discussed about divorce because firstly, Juana wouldn’t hear about it and secondly, we had to consider Kyle’s feelings.
As I was saying, I was on a train back to NY when everything became hectic. The train shook like mad and everyone was screaming and panicky all of a sudden. Luggage fell, windows crashed and it became really extreme all of a sudden. I remember a big explosion and everything turned dark.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a ward of a hospital. I turned my head and saw someone really in critical condition. He must’ve punctured his lungs somehow because the dressing on his chest didn’t do much to stop the bleeding—it was bleeding every time he tried to breath. I tried to get up but a doctor stopped me. He wanted to check to see if I had any injuries, internally or externally. I told him that I feel perfectly fine and he looked at me like some sort of an alien.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
“Because there are two reasons: one, you are going to be known as the sole survivor of a massive train crash, including that guy over there—although I don’t think he’ll live for long—and two, you came out of that train crash uninjured and unharmed. There wasn’t even a scratch on you.”
I slowly walked out of the ward, feeling confused and dazed. As I went down the hallway, all the families of those deceased in the train accident staring at me as if it was my fault that I’m alive and their family member was dead. I saw Kyle ahead and he rushed over to hug me. Although things weren’t good between Juana and I, Kyle was still really close to me. Juana hugged me half-heartedly and we went home pretty much confused and quite shaken up by everything.
The next week, I attended the funeral of those who died in the train crash. Luckily they were too overwhelmed with grief to notice my presence. After all said and done, I went back to my car and found a card stuck on my windscreen bearing the name ‘Limited Edition’. I’ve heard of that place. It’s an art gallery that sells classic and original comic drawings during the ‘60’s, ‘70’s and ‘80’s. On the card was written in perfect cursive writing:
How many times in your life have you been sick?
I looked around to see if anyone was nearby and could be the one who gave me this card but I saw no one. I myself was pretty curious about the number of times I got sick, so I asked my boss. He said I never had a sick leave throughout the 5 years I’ve been working with him (he thought I was hinting him about asking for a raise). I ask Juana and she, too, didn’t remember me getting sick, although I actually woke her in the middle of the night to ask her this and she probably was too tired to think.
I was still curious about this mysterious note and I wanted to know who sent it, so after my shift and after I picked up Kyle from school, I went to Limited Edition to meet this guy.
I was quite surprised to see him. He was a considerably young guy, almost my age, but he was walking using a walking stick. He had some sort of a deathly sick kind of aura around him, and also another evil, dark aura I couldn’t figure out what. He offered me a seat and a drink.
“I was thinking that you wouldn’t come,” the man said.
“Who are you, and what is it you want?” I was straight to the point.
“You’ve made quite a name in the news, I see. My name is Jacques Chad. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”
“I got your card at my windshield. Would you tell me what’s going on?”
He then talked to me about the train accident and how amazed he was about the whole sole survivor thing. He said something about waiting for someone like me for so long after hearing all kinds of fatal accidents. I remembered an explosion that made a parking lot collapse and a severe fire happening at a huge respectable hotel. Both those accidents were fatal. No one survived.
“And then I saw the news on the train crash. 123 people died, 1 survivor. Can you imagine how thrilled I was?” Jacques spoke as if it was the news of the century. Well, in a way.
“What are you trying to say here, Mr. Chad?” I wrinkled my nose in confusion.
“Please, call me Jacques,” he said before telling me about a certain sickness he had: something about a calcium-deficiency that makes his bones brittle like glass. One small simple fall and his bones will break terribly. Now that’s one softie if I could say so myself!
“I have spent 2/3 of my life on a hospital bed with nothing to do but read. And comic books have been my faithful companion. Often I think that if there is someone who is the exact opposite of me: strong, never get sick, never get hurt, and never break a bone, nothing. And I found that person right in front of me.”
“If you’re thinking of never getting hurt, you’ll be disappointed,” I replied, getting really freaked out about his weird theories.
“Oh?” he seemed surprised. Typical.
“My father hurt his leg and he wasn’t able to play basketball anymore,” Kyle said.
“Is that so?” Jacques looked at me with interest.
“Yes,” I nodded. “Sorry for wasting your time, Jacques, but I’ve dealt with people like you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I got to take my son home.”
I got up, took Kyle’s hand and was about to leave when he asked me, “You said you’ve dealt with people like me. What do you mean by that?”
“They talk things like you just said,” I replied, not facing him, “then they ask for my credit card number.”
After our meeting, I haven’t seen him for a while. One day, when I was working out, I suddenly found my dumbbells exceptionally heavy. I put it back and asked Kyle who was in charge of putting the weights, “How much did you put on that thing?”
Kyle shrugged. I turned to look. It was about 250 pounds—the most that I have lifted. We were both interested and decided to experiment on it. First, Kyle added more weight, totaling to 270 pounds. I was able to lift it. Then we put on all the weights, and still I could lift it. Finally we resolved to hang paint buckets over the dumbbells to add in the weight. It was quite strenuous but still I was able to lift it. We both felt excited yet a little terrified.
Was that Jacques guy really true? Was I developing something that I never knew existed?
Days later, I met Jacques again. He was walking with the help of his walking stick as usual. We chit-chatted about things—mostly his theory about the comic books and how it may apply to the real world. The topic did interested me a little but I had a job to do. As I walked him to his seat, I brushed against someone who was wearing an army jacket, and suddenly I had an image of a silver gun tucked in a black grip. One of those troublemakers again, I presume. I whispered to my colleague to keep an eye on that man.
Jacques was, as usual, interested. He somehow figured out that I had seen something, and that really freaked me out a little. I stood at the ticket lot and stared intently at the man I thought had a weapon. He got the message and left the crowd. After leading Jacques to his seat, I went back to my job again. But before I left, Jacques asked me, “The day you hurt your leg. What happened?”
“Just a simple car accident when I was in high school, that’s all,” I replied.
“Was there anyone with you?”
“My wife, Juana.”
A few weeks later, when I was on duty, Kyle got into trouble in school and I was called over to have a little talk with the counseling teacher. She was an old acquaintance of mine when I was a small kid, and my saviour too, because she had saved me from drowning in the pool (which made me quite phobic to water). Kyle told me that he was trying to help a girl from being bullied and ended up fighting. He thought he could’ve gotten the ability I have but I couldn’t convince him that I’m just a normal human being, because I was beginning to have doubts about myself after that dumbbell incident.
Later that night, when Juana and I were doing the dishes, she told me that she was now treating Jacques for multiple fractures. She told me about Jacques’ theory, which really sickened me. Jacques is just simply everywhere, for crying out loud! How am I ever going to be rid of him?
That was when I noticed the gun I used during my duties in Kyle’s hands. He was aiming it dangerously at me and he kept telling me that I won’t get hurt.
“Kyle, put the gun down!” I urged.
“It would just be a moment,” Kyle replied. “You won’t get hurt. Jacques said you wouldn’t! I’ll prove it!”
“Kyle, if you don’t put the gun down, I’m going to Dallas and I’m never coming back! I thought we’re friends and friends don’t shoot each other, do they, Juana?”
“No, Kyle,” Juana’s voice was trembling. “Friends don’t shoot each other. When people get sick for a long time, they tend to make up things. Don’t be silly, Kyle. You’ll get your father killed…”
“I’ll prove it to you! You won’t die! You won’t even get hurt!” Kyle has dangerously released the safety click of the gun.
“You’re right. The bullet might just bounce off me and I won’t be hurt! But I’m telling you, you pull that trigger and I’m gonna pack and I’m leaving for Dallas, you hear me? I’m leaving!”
Finally, Kyle put down the gun and rushed off. I immediately replace the safety click and unloaded the bullets. It was frightening for both Juana and I. we went weak all over and Juana was trying to breathe properly. It’s all that cripple’s fault! He got us into this mess! He made my worse-off family even worse than it was!
The next day, I went to talk to Jacques. He was pretty injured alright—he was sitting on a wheelchair. He wasn’t surprised to see me coming to his shop.
“I was wondering when you are going to show up. You know, I followed the guy with the army jacket and as I fell, I saw that there was a silver gun tucked in a black grip, just as you told me you thought you saw. You knew it all along, didn’t you?”
“A gun would either have a black or a brown grip. I had a 50-50 chance of guessing it right, so.” At that point, denial was my only option.
“Did you really get hurt in the car accident? Because I think you faked it, and you did it for a woman. That’s not surprising. Basketball is just a phase, but love is not just a phase…”
“I was sick,” I got straight to the point of lying. “I had pneumonia and I lay in the hospital for 2 weeks. I was almost drowned in the pool by some naughty kids. Heroes don’t get drowned like that, normal people do, right?”
“I never said you could not be killed. I was just…”
“Stop it, Jacques. Just stop it. My son tried to shoot me just to prove you right. My family is already wrecked. Please don’t make it even worse. Stay away from my family…OK?”
After that talk, I didn’t see him again for the next few weeks. During those few weeks, Juana had agreed to try and work our problems out. We went out of meals and we had a heart-to-heart talk one night when we went out for a drink. That time we were beginning to realize that the source of our broken marriage was because we have stopped confiding to each other abruptly. We resolved to bottle our feelings altogether that we didn’t know what was going on between our minds. We agreed to try out our relationship again, bit by bit.
Later that night, when we came home, the baby-sitter told me that there were two calls for me: one from Dallas and one from a mystery guy. Great! Of all times, Dallas had to reply my application now in the middle of our healing. As my wife silently walked into her room under the stairs after whispering a ‘Congratulations’ to me, I turned on the answering machine to listen for the other message.
It was no other than Jacques Chad.
“I’ve just discovered a book about the Coalition of Evil, where this coalition is bent on searching for each and every super hero’s weakness. It’s just like you and I, Marco Dunn. We both have a certain fear for water. You don’t get hurt easily; I do. Your body reacts to viruses in a different manner, so you don’t get sick; I do. But we both hate water and the feeling is mutual. We are just the same, Marco Dunn, just at the opposite ends.”
Again, his words began to make me think about myself. I don’t get hurt, that’s true. I don’t get sick, that’s also true. I could’ve done a million jobs after college, and yet—as Jacques said—I chose to protect people, to be security guard. Are my existence and this unbelievable ability to read people’s mind by touch and unbreakable body really to protect people? I began to doubt my true meaning of life. I grabbed my security rain coat and decided to take a walk in the rain to do some thinking.
As I walked, I had a little flashback of the car accident. I remember waking up beside the wrecked car without even a scratch. I was running towards the car and was actually yanking the stuck door open to free Juana out of the car before it exploded. When people asked me about my damages, I found myself contemplating whether to tell the truth or forgo my basketball career for Juana.
Finally I called Jacques and told him the truth about myself. His voice seemed really pleased when I asked him what I was supposed to do.
“Go to a place where there are people. You won’t have to search for long. Remember, this is not a comic book anymore. Real life doesn’t fit into tiny boxes with drawings on them.”
I did what I was told. I went to the most crowded place possible: the subway station. As I did like the days of my duty in school, I stood in the middle of the crowd and slightly extended my hands, letting them bump on me without complaints. I’ve seen a number of people’s minds telling me about the wicked deeds they have done: stealing, assaulting and even drunk driving, but nothing was compared to the one I saw on the station janitor’s mind. He was the one I was looking for. The real person I need to put to justice.
I saw him standing in front of a beautiful house and he was talking to the master of the house, asking to be let in. When the master put up a struggle, the janitor killed the man and overruled the house.
I have found who I was looking for.
I followed him after his working hours secretly towards the house I saw in my vision. It was a very beautiful house—almost like an English setting—and I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t be attracted to it. But that was no reason to overrule someone else’s house just because you feel like it. I saw the janitor walked in from the back door. I guess he didn’t want to create any suspicion. I followed suite.
As I crept inside, I saw the house was in a filthy mess. There was rubbish everywhere, as if it hadn’t been dusted or cleaned for months. For someone who loved beautiful houses, he sure was a very bad housekeeper. I walked into the house as silent as possible. I could hear him fixing something to eat in the kitchen. When I passed by the basement door, I could feel a bad aura coming out. I shoved the door open and to my horror, it was the body of the master of the house, just like in my vision. His forehead was bleeding and it was soaking through the basement stairs.
I didn’t expect him to be alive.
I silently, but quickly, made my way upstairs. I entered into what seemed like the children’s room. As I surveyed the room, I could hear whimpering in the closet. I rushed towards the closet and was shocked to find out two teenage girls tied on the clothes poles, their wrists sore and red and near to bleeding. I quickly untied the fishing lines from their hands and hushed them, warning them not to make a sound. They nodded and stifled their sobs.
I went to the master bedroom and found the wife. She wasn’t doing quite well; she was so weak and in a daze that she didn’t even notice me standing in front of her. I walked out to the balcony to see if the janitor was about. So far, so good. Before I could turn back to help the wife, I was suddenly pushed by the janitor into the pool at the backyard. It was a nightmare realizing that I was surrounded by water and unable to surface back up again due to the fact that I couldn’t swim. I almost thought that I was a goner before I saw a pole extended to me. Quickly, I held on the pole for dear life and climbed out of the pool. It was the girls. They somehow escaped from the eyes of the janitor and sneaked down here to save me. Guess we’re even now, but my job wasn’t done yet.
I went back up the house and sneaked back to the master bedroom. I saw that filthy janitor spitting mouthfuls of beer at the woman of the house tied onto the radiator with relish. His every move made me sick. I pounced onto him, wrapping a dead lock around his neck. He put up a great struggle, banging me on the wall (which created dents) and jabbing me with his elbow. None of them worked, of course. I was unbreakable. He struggled more and more, trying to shake me off, but I had the upper hand. I grabbed hold of his head and twisted it, breaking his neck. When I heard the crack of his neck, then I let him go.
After making sure he didn’t wake up, I rushed over to untie the wife. But I was too late. She had died long time ago probably due to starvation or dehydration. She just slumped onto the carpet and didn’t get up at all. Her eyes didn’t even blink.
At least I’ve done what I’ve came for. The rest is up to the girls now.
I sneaked away from the house after making sure that the girls were safe and were calling the police for help. I didn’t want to create a scene, and I definitely didn’t want to be recognized. I walked straight home, hung up my rain coat and carried Juana from her room under the stairs to our usual bedroom. I was ready to make things work. I know now that I love Juana too much to accept the Dallas offer.
I want our family back. That’s all I ask for.
Needless to say, last night’s incident was on the news. I secretly shared the news with Kyle, making him swear to secrecy. He agreed. I didn’t want to alert Juana. She’ll never understand. Luckily, my rain coat had a hood, so the description of me in the newspaper was pretty vague. I looked like the weatherman in the sketching.
Later in the afternoon, I went to visit Jacques to thank him for his help on realizing my purpose of life. He was having an exhibition at that time, so he excused himself and led me to his office. He congratulated me on my first mission and said, “This is only the beginning.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” I replied sheepishly.
“I think this is where we shake hands,” he said as he held out his hand. I took it, and was shocked to find out the horror in his mind: the parking lot explosion, the burning of the hotel and the train crash…it was all his doing. He had created those accidents all along! It was him all along! Why didn’t I see that before?!
I pulled away my hand and for the first time, I saw all kinds of gadgets like explosives, sketching of buildings and the train, computerized surveillance cameras, everything a terrorist need to plan an attack.
“So many sacrifices…” Jacques sighed, as if he thought of it as a normal thing. “So many sacrifices just to find someone like you.”
“All those people…How could you…?” I was struggling to speak right.
“I’ve spent all my life searching, and now I have found you. And now we’ve known who you are, I know who I am.”
I turned to go. I couldn’t believe that the person who helped me find the purpose of my life was someone who had sacrificed so many people just to find me and help me. He killed everyone just for me! I felt so guilty. It felt as if part of me was responsible for all those innocent deaths.
“I’m not a mistake, Marco Dunn! In comic books, we can always predict the characteristics of the villain. He/She is always the exact opposite of the hero and they always started out as friends! We could’ve been together! We could’ve met each other earlier before I ever thought of doing this!”
He was insane. He really was insane. He had made me part of his crazy scheme to find his life-long hero that he didn’t realize that it had made him a despicable villain. I had to do the right thing. I convinced the authorities about his evil deeds and his terrorist schemes that killed so many innocent people. He is now in an institution for the criminally insane. I don’t know what happened to him now.
All I know is that part of me has the guilt of letting all those innocent lives gone to waste, and I had to redeem them somehow. Which is why I travel throughout the city at night, looking for a case to solve, then mysteriously disappear, baffling the public. I had to do this. I had to repay part of the ‘debt’ Jacques has caused to the families of those innocent lives he had taken.
Besides, it is the purpose of my life—to be the unsung hero and protect the weak and to uphold justice. As long as I’m still alive, I will repay those ‘debts’ and fulfill the purpose of my life, and if possible, I hope my son would too, that is, if he had inherited this ability of mine.
It is my sacred duty.
It is my obligation.
I am unbreakable.
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