A Haitian Superman's Story

Hello, there. My name is Thomas James Des-Champs, T.J. to my friends, and I'm a six-foot-two, lean and mean, brown-skinned and black-haired, ruggedly handsome gentleman of the Haitian persuasion. I hail from the City of Cap-Haitien, in Northern Haiti. Way down in the Caribbean. I'm a former police officer and car mechanic by trade, but my avocation is hunting monsters. I know it might be a shock to you since this is the twenty-first century and all, but monsters are real. Demons. Vampires. Werewolves. Pagan deities. They're all real. And they live among us. When one of them gets out of line, I go on the Hunt and kill him, her or it. That's my job.

I was busy fixing this wayward bus for the Cap-Haitien Public School School System one Saturday morning when my phone started buzzing. Cursing under my breath, I got up and checked to see who it was. It was my grandmother, Mercy Jean Des-Champs. Matriarch of the Clan. As in the one female I absolutely cannot say no to. And I frigging hate that! She told me that they had a situation in Boston, Massachusetts. And I should get on the next plane to the USA. I couldn't believe it. Why in hell did the old woman want me to go all the way to America for? Doesn't she know we're in a recession? I can't afford to leave my shop and start running all over America looking for freaks. I started telling her she ought to let someone else handle it, until she told me the words which sent a chill down my spine. She told me that Veronique was down there.

Veronique Bois is the first, last and only woman I ever loved deeply, once upon a time. She was everything I liked in a woman. Six feet tall, dark-skinned, long-haired and extremely pretty in a way only Haitian women can be. The daughter of one of Haiti's wealthiest families. Her father, Vincent Bois was an international shipping magnate. He basically ran the nation's shipping industry. His daughter was the pearl of his eye, and with good reason. She looked like an authentic African goddess come to life when I met her at Labadee Beach, during my senior year at College Notre Dame, the all-male Roman Catholic School I attended since first grade. Folks, it was lust at first sight. Veronique was in her senior year at Sisters of Saint Joseph De Cluny, an all-female Catholic prep school located about a mile from Notre Dame College. When I saw how fine she looked in her blue bathing suit, I had to holler. The gal was pretty in the face and fine in the body but she also had a big, round and heart-shaped booty that was probably visible from space. And you know that down in the Caribbean we're big booty worshipers. American guys might like flat butts but down here, we don't roll with that.

So I gathered my courage to holler at this honey. She wasn't alone. Pretty girls never are. Veronique was accompanied by her friends, a light-skinned chick with short hair and a tall, curvaceous and dark-skinned broad who'd look really hot if she'd stop scowling at every guy who checked her out. I mean, damn, you got a hot body, enjoy it! Chicks get mad when guys check them out openly, yet I bet you they'd feel upset if they went a week without having any man checking them out at least once. They'll never admit it, of course. Women. Anyhow, I approached Veronique and said hello. Her girlfriends looked me up and down and scoffed. She didn't. She said hello, and shook my hand. I looked her in the eye and told her she was the finest sister I'd seen in ages. Grinning, Veronique said I was totally hitting on her. I grinned, and said hell yeah!

Yeah, that's how we met. I managed to separate her from her friends and we hit the waves at Labadee Beach together. Yeah, from the moment she held my hand as we raced through the water, I felt a connection. And this isn't just my lust talking. Yeah, Veronique was fine. However, she also had a lot of qualities I like in a female. She was smart, friendly and funny. Not stuck-up, the way I always imagined rich women were. By the end of that day at the beach, I had her number and she had mine. We quickly inseparable. We fell in love, folks. Her father wasn't thrilled with his eldest daughter dating some guy from the so-called lower classes. But I couldn't care less. I wasn't ashamed of my origins. My father, Lucien Des-Champs is a Colonel in the Haitian Army. My mother, Mariel Des-Champs is a teacher at S.O.S. Village. We've done alright for ourselves. Fortunately, Veronique liked me for who I am and my parents loved her. Life was good.

When I was with Veronique, I began to entertain visions of a different life. The men and women in my family are born with certain unique gifts. I'm much stronger than a normal man of my size and weight ought to be. Perhaps three or four times stronger. I recover quickly from injury too. As far as I know, all of my family members are that way. You see, we've got the blood of the non-humans in us. What are non-humans? Vampires. Werewolves. Demons. Fallen Angels. Monsters. Pagan deities. They're everywhere. Sometimes they have offspring with ordinary humans. And these offspring, and those descended from them, inherit many of the abilities of the non-human side of their bloodline.

Hunting monsters, that's what I was born to do. My father and mother hunt monsters too. As does my grandmother Mercy. My grandfather, Alphonse Des-Champs hunted them too when he was alive. He went down fighting against a pack of werewolves in Santo Domingo. My family has groomed me to battle against supernatural forces since birth. It's in my blood. It's not something I could simply walk away from. However, Veronique made me wish I could lead a normal life. After graduating from Notre Dame College, I applied to the Cap-Haitien Police Academy. I got accepted, because I'm the grandson of one of Haiti's foremost military men. And I come from a distinguished line of men and women bred for war. After graduation, Veronique went to the prestigious University of Notre Dame of Haiti. It's one of the top private schools back home. I was happy for her.

I wanted to ask Veronique to marry me after graduating from the Cap Police Academy. Unfortunately, I never got the chance. One night, we were walking together after a grueling day at our favorite institutions when suddenly we were attacked. The men who attacked us weren't men. I'm not challenging their masculinity or anything of the sort. They simply weren't human. They were zombies. Someone reanimated them after they went to their final resting place. And these undead men swarmed over my would-be bride and I. Valiantly, I fought to protect my woman and myself. I struck down two of them with my bare hands, using the superhuman strength which was my birthright. Veronique didn't cower behind me like some would expect. My woman was a fighter. Bravely, she thrust at them with the long cane she inherited from her grandfather. She jabbed one of them in the face and the zombie went down, howling.

We broke through them and ran for it. The zombies chased us. They seemed to be everywhere. Folks, I'm sad to say that there were too many of them. They swarmed over me, smothered me with numbers. And they took my Veronique. I haven't seen her since. That night, my heart turned to stone. From that day on, I hunted every supernatural creature I encountered. I beheaded wolf-men and wolf-women. I staked vampires. I burned ogres. I decapitated zombies. I showed no mercy to any and all non-humans I encountered. My family joined me in my crusade against the darkness which surrounded us. I looked incessantly for Veronique. But I couldn't find her. I tortured many of the non-human denizens of the world. None of them knew her whereabouts, or the identity of the man, woman, creature, spirit, monster or entity which sent the zombies after us. I now know they were after her, not me. Who would want to hurt Veronique? She was an ordinary mortal. I was the superhuman, the logical target for the forces of evil. Who would want to harm her?

The years passed. I graduated from the Police Academy. I worked as a cop for years, then quit. I became a mechanic. I buried myself in my work. There was no joy in my life. My world was filled with darkness. Then one day I glimpsed her, on the shore of the beach where we first met. There she was, the woman I loved. And she wasn't alone. There were two men with her. I ran to her, thrilled to have found her. Ignoring the men, I threw my arms around her and kissed her. I thanked God to have found her. Veronique looked at me and smiled. Her eyes turned yellow, and she seized my throat with hands that were superhumanly strong. With a simple flexing gesture, she sent me flying. I crashed on the sand, twenty feet away. I watched in abject terror as Veronique and the two men who were with her simply flew away. They leapt into the sky like birds and soared away. I was stunned. Even in the world I lived in, this was strange. What were they?

As I made my way to Mais-Gate Airport in Port-Au-Prince, getting ready to board the American Airline plane that would take me from Haiti to Miami, Florida, I looked at the small pendant with Veronique's picture in it. It never left me. I kissed the image, and crossed myself. I'm going to America, where my Veronique has been sighted. I will find her. If she's no longer human, as I suspect, maybe we can work something out. We don't have to be enemies. She doesn't have to die like the rest of them creatures. She matters to me. After all, by the Matriarch's new decree, I only hunt those non-humans who harm humanity. If Veronique has turned to the dark side, I don't know what I'll do. I've seen her power firsthand. And I don't think I'd kill her even if I could. We'll see. Wish me luck.