StarFall Comics
A Division of Pullemouttayerhat Productions
A Wholly-Owned Subsidiary of StarFall Innovations
Proudly Presents:
Swamp Patrol
#1: Ghosts of Dead-Man's Swamp
cover: Standard First Issue Team Shot, bursting through the cover.
Our story begins one morning in Fountain Hill, a small town south of Allentown, Pennsylvania. Inside a modest house, in a modest neighborhood, a common scene which had an impact on the day's events.
Marguerite Hawkins stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs, tapping her foot impatiently. Marguerite was a woman in her early thirties, wearing her light brown hair in a stylish short cut.
"Janice Hawkins!" she yelled up the stairs. "Get down here this instant!"
Upstairs, Janice, an athletic, auburn-haired young woman, was on the phone with a friend.
"Now what the hell does she want?" she complained. "It's a Friday morning for crying out loud! She knows my classes at Lehigh don't start until after noon."
"It must be serious if she's calling you by her last name," her friend offered.
"Nah, she always does that," Janice said with a smile.
"I'm waiting!" came drifting from downstairs. Janice turned her head and yelled towards her door.
"Yeah, I'm coming! Keep your pantyhose on, Maggie!" She returned to her phone. "We hangin' tonight?"
"Pick you up around five?"
"Sure. Gotta run." She hung up the phone and raced downstairs. "You rang, O Mother Superior?" The older Hawkins gazed at Janice with an aggravated look.
"Your breakfast is ready," she told Janice. And growing colder by the minute, she thought. "Ham and eggs fine with you?"
"Did you lay them yourself, or did you go out to the henhouse?" Janice asked cockily.
Marguerite slapped Janice in the face. "That was not called for. Janice, I've tried understanding things from your point of view. Couldn't you at least try to see things from mine once in a while?"
"What point of view?!" came Janice's retort. "You abandoned me at birth - or so you claim - then you come back into my life sixteen years later and claim you're my mother?! I only left my mother and brother because we couldn't afford the court fees for me to stay with them. I'm 18 now..."
"Seventeen and a half."
"Whatever. And you're not even 35 yet! As far as I'm concerned, I live in your house, but believe me when I say there is nothing between us! Stay out of my life, and I'll stay out of yours!"
"Janice Hawkins!" Marguerite yelled. "I am your mother!"
"And another thing, Marguerite!" Janice yelled back, sarcasm slipping into her voice at the name. "The name is Deerfoot, not Hawkins! Janice Deerfoot!" She pulled on her sneakers and headed out the door. "If you need me, don't call!!"
She ran out the door and was gone before Marguerite could say anything more.
She'll never understand, the older Hawkins thought to herself. I was thirteen when I had her. And the doctors said I'd never have another.
Around noon, in front of City Hall, Allentown, the press was out in force as Inspector Caruthers stepped through the doors. Near the back of the crowd was Frank Stolid. Almost immediately, the Inspector was swamped with reporters and cameras.
"Inspector Caruthers, is it true that you've been asked to head the Anti-Corruption Task Force?"
"What is the Mayor's plan on wiping out city corruption?"
Caruthers gazed over the crowd of reporters and cameras before answering the two questions. He smiled to himself when he noticed several passerby stop and listen to the reporters.
"To the first question: yes, I have. To the other: he doesn't have one."
"Doesn't have one?" one of the reporters echoed. "Inspector, wasn't this meeting called to find ways to stop government corruption in the city?"
"It was," Caruthers stated, "but the corruption goes straight to the top."
"Are you accusing the Mayor of being on the take?"
Caruthers looked straight into one of the cameras as he spoke. "The Mayor, most of the police, and two-thirds of City Hall. They're all on the take. And you can quote me on that."
"Will you be able to stop the corruption?" another reporter asked.
Caruthers paused briefly before answering, at which he glared at the reporter. "Yes, but not alone. I'll need the help of you, the reporters and the media, as well as some good judges, good attorneys, and the help of every honest person in this burg." A smile broke on his face. "Heck, maybe the ghosts of Dead-Man's Swamp will help." This brought some laughs from some reporters.
"Inspector, will you - "
"No more questions," Caruthers said as he walked to his car.
As Caruthers drove away, one of the passerby paused near Frank.
"What a dreamer, right Frank?" the passerby asked. "I doubt if he'll ever get close to success."
Frank gazed in the direction Caruthers had drove off in.
"Maybe not, Pete," he hesitantly agreed. "But what's life without a dream to reach for?"
The ghosts of Dead-Man's Swamp. Words that followed Frank Stolid for the rest of the day.
That very minute, in the Mayor's office, the mayor was frantically speaking into the phone.
"That's right," he said. "I just watched him accuse me in full public. I want this Caruthers out of the picture, permanently." He paused as he listened to the response. "I don't know! Kidnap his family, for all I care. I'm not interested in the means, just the ends."
Meanwhile, in Allentown Central High, another red-letter event was happinging, in the English class of Ted Stolid and Donna Valin. Their teacher monotoned while facing a chalk-board. Behind him, several students ignored him.
Donna, a sixteen-year-old brunette, leaned over to Ted and whispered, "This guy is talking almost verbatim how Paul imitates him."
Ted leaned in Donna's direction. "I wonder how long he's been using these same notes." He showed her a copy of notes. "Tomorrow's lesson, taken by Frank, three years ago." He opened a comic inside his textbook.
"What's that you're reading, Ted?"
"The latest from Eleck. It's supposed to be hot. Besides, this class is boring."
"Just be careful."
Ted closed his eyes for a brief second. A second later, a laser bolt emerged from his pen and landed on the teacher's bald spot. It ricocheted into the ceiling.
Donna leaned over and nudged Ted. "Hide the book."
Ted shook his head, coming back to his senses. "Huh? Oh, right."
Unfortunately, he closed the textbook and hid it instead of the comic. The teacher slowly turned towards the class.
Donna glanced at Ted, "Now you've done it."
With a thought, Donna molded her body into a mirror-image of Ted's.
"What is going on here?" the teacher asked in the same monotone.
Donna, in Ted's form, replied, "Nothing, sir."
The teacher took off his glasses and proceeded to clean them, during which time Ted replaced the comic with the textbook and Donna returned to her true form. After the teacher put his glasses back on, he turned back to the class.
"I'm glad nothing happened," he monotoned. "Yet, I must say I've never seen double before. And I did feel something hit my head. And I'm going to find out who did it."
"Thanks for the save," Ted whispered to Donna.
"We're not out of the frying pan yet," she replied.
"We're out of it, alright," Ted stated. "But now we're in the fire."
"Mr. Stolid? Miss Valin? Do you have something to share with the class?"
"Think fast, bub," Donna whispered to Ted. "Talk faster."
Ted stood up. "We were wondering about the proper usage of pronouns from the last page."
The teacher eyed him curoiusly. "Is that all?" He turned back to the board and returned to his lecture.
"What the hell was that beam that hit the teach?" Donna asked.
"I have no idea," Ted replied. "No idea at all. Except that it came from me."
Later that day, Inspector Caruthers returned home from a long day at work.
"Honey, I'm home!" he called as he set his briefcase down by the door. He was answered only by silence. "Bobby? Diane?" He received no answer.
He walked into the living room. The place was a mess. There were obvious signs of a struggle. A bloody baseball bat lay on the floor. Near it was a stain of blood.
This is Bobby's bat, he thought to himself. Hesitantly, he touched the blood stain. This is fresh blood.
"I hope they're all right."
Almost dreading what he'd find, he entered the kitchen. Taped to the refrigerator was a note. Feeling a sense of dread, he grabbed the note and read it aloud:
Caruthers, your wife and kids are safe, for now. If you drop all investigations into the Mayor's office, they will be returned to you. If not, you will never see them again. Alive, that is. If you come searching for us, they will die. We'll be in touch, tomorrow. [Signed], A Friend.
This is great, he thought. Just great. So it comes to this. They struck before I was ready. Serves me right for shooting my mouth off to the press.
Later that night, Frank, Janice, and another girl their age, Shelly, were playing nine-ball pool in a local bar. Frank was telling them about what he'd seen earlier in the day.
"... So then the inspector closed saying, 'Maybe the ghosts of Dead-Man's Swamp will help'." He sank the "3" ball. "Point."
"Not likely," Shelly muttered, adjusting her glasses and putting the "3" on the far rail. "Those things are just stories used to frighten children before bed."
"Just what is Dead-Man's Swamp?" Janica asked.
"A former swamp around where US-22 and the turnpike intersect," Shelly explained. "Bethlehem Steel owned it around the time it was drained, back before the Wetlands Laws were passed."
"I own a piece of it now, Shelly," Frank said. "I was thinking..."
Before Frank could finish, a commotion at the door grabbed their attention. Caruthers wandered into the bar.
"Scotch," he told the bartender. "And keep it coming." The bartender handed him a glass and poured a clear amber liquid into it.
"What's going on?" Janice wanted to know.
"Tell you in a moment," Frank said, wandering over to sit next to the Inspector. "Aren't you Inspector Caruthers, of the Anti-Corruption Task Force?" he asked.
"So what if I was?" Caruthers grunted.
"I just wanted to congratulate you on having the guts to stand up to the press. I was present at your speech. You make Allentown look good."
"An empty victory," Caruthers told him. "The Mayor's people stuck back this afternoon."
"What happened?" Frank asked.
"What do you care?" Caruthers growled.
"Hey, I care," Frank spat, pounding his fist against the bar, making the Inspector jump. "This city is my home. I want to see the place cleaned up." He shook his head heatedly. "I'm sorry if you've thrown in the towel, but there are others who aren't ready to roll over and play dead, you got that?"
Caruthers smiled. "Thanks kid, but the Mayor's people have kidnapped my family." He handed Frank the note. "If you're serious about your ideals, see what you can do." He turned towards the bartender. "Check please!"
Frank returned to the girls, reading the note.
"Let's get out of here," he told them. "I'll tell you what went on at my place. Get Pete and Brill and tell them to meet us there."
"And what'll you be doing while we're doing this?" Janice asked.
"All I can to figure this mess out." He grabbed his coat and left the bar.
Janice looked over at Shelly, amazed.
"Is he always this intense?"
Shelly glanced in Frank's direction. "Only when there's trouble."
"Oh."
Not long afterwards, in the Stolid household in Allentown, Ted and his mother are having a slight...difference of opinion.
"And just what the hell were you doing with a comic in your English class anyway?!" she wanted to know.
"The class was boring!" Ted replied, throwing his hands into the air for emphasis.
"That's no excuse," she told him, grabbing his arm. "And what about this:" She took a glance at a piece of Allentown Central stationary. "Has exhibited dangerous, unexplained paranormal abilities?"
"A laser was came out of my pen and impacted on the dude's bald spot," Ted explained. "It was an accident!"
"There's still the fact that pens do not toss around lasers!"
Ted thought for a minute. "So maybe I'm what they call para-gene positive. There's this one lady scientist in Canada...."
"She's a quack!" his mother practiacally screamed. "Normal God-fearing people do not do the things you can do!"
"MOM!" Ted yelled in response. "I blow stuff up! I'm a walking arsenal! And there's nothing you can do about it, short of putting me in a straitjacket and throwing away the key!" He turned and sat down in a chair, facing away from her. "And even then you couldn't do anything about it."
"Well maybe that's where you and your freakish kind belong!" she told him. "In an loony-bin!"
Fortunately for Ted, Frank chose this time to enter the house.
"Hey, am I missing anything?" he asked, glancing back and forth at both Ted and their mother. "It sounds pretty intense from outside."
"I refuse to acknowledge this thing as my son any longer," their mother huffed.
"What has he done?"
The Stolid brothers' mother explained what the argument was about. Frank's reaction was, to say the least, unique:
"I think I'm gonna puke. Tell you what, Ted. Stay over at my place for the weekend, and we'll work this out."
"Fine. I'll get my stuff." He headed up the stairs.
"You mind telling me what's going on?" she asked.
"I'm just getting him out of your hair for a bit." Frank explained.
After a few minutes, Ted came down the stairs.
"Let's go." The brothers left, Ted sneaking a glance at his mom.
A few minutes later, Frank and Ted entered Frank's apartment.
"What a dump!" Ted exclaimed. "And I thought Tony's Junkyard was a mess."
"What did you expect," Framk asked, "the Taj Mahal? Anyway, I'm holding a meeting here later tonight, so I'd best get the place cleaned up." He bent over and started picking clothes off the floor. Ted soon followed his brother's example.
"A meeting for what?" he asked.
"I assume you've heard of Inspector Joe Caruthers, right?"
"Yeah, he's leading a group to combat city corruption," was Ted's reply. "I do read the papers, y'know. Where do you want this stuff?" He indicated his load of clothing.
"There's a hamper in the bathroom," Frank told him.
"You have a hamper?" Ted cracked as he entered the bathroom.
"Funny. Well, I talked with him earlier tonight."
"What about?"
"Those he's fighting kidnapped his family earlier today," Frank explained. "I've called a bunch of my friends together so we could figure out what, if anything, we could do to help. I'd like you to be here for it."
"Why?" Ted asked. "I don't even know your friends." There was a sound of a toilet flushing, and Ted reappeared from the bathroom.
"I heard you tell Mom that you were - how did you put it? - para-gene positive."
"That's right," Ted nodded. "So what of it?"
"What can you do?"
Ted shrugged. "I don't know. All I know is that a laser shot from my pen and hit the teacher's bald spot."
This intrigued Frank. "Were you thinking of a laser at the time?"
Ted looked confused for a moment. "I don't remember. It all happened so quickly."
Frank put a few dishes in the sink. "Point at the wall and think of a laser."
Ted did this, but...
"Nothing." Ted looked a bit dejected. Frank thought for a moment.
"Try it again," he told his younger brother, "except use a pen or pencil."
Ted pulled a pencil out of his pocket and pointed it at the wall. A second later, a laser shot out of the end of the pencil and left a burn mark on the far wall.
"Whoa!" he breathed.
Frank looked at him, a smile forming on his face. "So you need something to focus on. Interesting."
Ted rummaged through his overnight bag. "I did think of that possibility, but it seems I can only do so much with a pencil. So, I brought something larger, if i can find the damn thing. Here it is." He pulled a cap gun out of the bag.
Frank was puzzled. "Your old cap pistol?"
Ted absently trirled it. "It looks realistic enough to fool others into thinking it's a real gun, if need be."
Frank raised an eyebrow.
"If you're putting a team together," Ted said, sticking the gun into his pants, "I know someone who could be of some help. If I could use your phone?"
"Be my guest," Frank said, smiling.
Later that night, Brill, Jan, Shelly, Frank, Donna, Ted, and Pete are sat around Frank's living room. Ted and Donna sat apart from the others.
"Hey, Jan, do you have a date tonight?" Pete asked.
"Yes I do, Pete," Jan said, flippantly. "Even if I didn't, I wouldn't go with you."
"I forgot," Pete moaned. "Janice Hawkins is too good for the likes of my kind." Growling, Jan tackled him, a hand poised at his neck.
"If you ever call me that name again," she told him, "I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands."
Brill reached over and pulled Jan off Pete.
"Lay off of him, Deerfoot. Ol' Pete didn't mean anything. It was just a Freudian slip."
"Not like she means to you, right Brill?" Pete quipped. "Thanks, Sigmund."
"Ted, who are these people?" Donna asked.
"Friends of my brothers, I guess," he told her. "I'm like the outsider here."
Frank took this time to start the meeting. "I suppose you're all wondering why I called you all here...."
The next morning, there was a knock on Caruthers's front door. Caruthers slowly opened the door.
"Yes?" He spotted Frank and his crew. "Who are you people?"
Frank looked him straight in the eye as he replied, "We're the Ghosts of Dead-Man's Swamp."