The motor continued its healthy purr for a couple of hours, delighting Sam with every untroubled acceleration and gear shift. In the front seats, Katie and Dettie were chatting happily for once. Katie was imagining what kind of dog she would like her parents to buy when they got to Perth—small and fat with big floppy ears. In the back, Sam and Jon played Rock, Paper, Scissors, with Jon calling a silly commentary on every throw, pretending it was all a dynamic clash of sporting titans.
They were well along the Eyre Highway, a long grey strip of road that appeared to float across the browned landscape before them, dissolving into a warbled haze up ahead. Only tufts of small green bushes and spindly sun-worn trees broke the endless breadth of flat earth and sprawling blue sky, and every kilometre or so a ghostly dirt track would lead off the highway into nothingness.
When the battle was over—scissors vanquishing paper in a controversial counting delay that, it was said, would go down in history—Jon playfully toasted his defeat with a sip of water. As he replaced the water bottle by his feet he resurfaced with the scrunched copy of Sam’s Tales of Fear.
‘Hello,’ he said.
Sam watched him flick through its pages, through the sprays of blood and stilted dialogue.
Jon laughed. ‘Look at this mess,’ he said, turning the issue to show Tim’s face being peeled away. ‘Brilliant.’
He skimmed through a few more scenes, far more amused than repulsed. ‘You like the scary ones?’
Sam shrugged.
‘I like the pirate ones, me,’ Jon said. ‘Have you read any pirate ones? Or Batman. Do you like Batman?’
Sam jerked, grinning wildly, pointing at himself.
‘Yeah? Batman? Bat car? Bat plane? Robin? Good stuff. Great stuff.’
Sam didn’t like Robin so much, but he loved every bit of the rest. And he had a desperate urge to tell Jon why. Why Batman was the best.
Because he didn’t have superpowers. Because he wasn’t the strongest, or the fastest, or the best. Because he was smart. And he worked hard. Superman got all his powers from the sun. Spider-Man was bitten by a spider. But Batman had to train. He had to learn. That was what made him the best.
Jon was talking about the old sixties Batman show that Sam had only seen a couple of times in reruns. He kept describing how funny it all was, but Sam wasn’t listening.
He looked down at his hands.
Batman had to learn to be the best. He lost something and worked hard to make it mean something.
Sam thought of Tracey again, and the therapy sessions he had refused to attend. His excitement dissolved. He felt a twinge of shame.
Batman would never have given up.