When humanity is threatened only the super powered might of the Toronto Maple Leafs can be counted on to save the day. But can the Maple Leafs be counted on? Time will answer all questions. But not yet, not for a long while.

Mitch Marner is snoozing on the roof of a rec center in the small west central Ontario town of Eastwall. The summer sun hides behind a brace of clouds which makes the day ideal for wasting. Mitch sleeps fitfully, as he has each night for weeks. He’s woken by the sound of children laughing. Crawling to the edge of the roof, Mitch peeks over but can’t see the kids.

“You wouldn’t last one minute out there.” One voice asserts.

“I’d stay out longer then you could.” A second youthful voice answers in rebuttal.

“Prove it.” The first voice demands. There is a moment of tense silence that follows, like when a gun gets dropped and everybody waits to see if it will go off.

“How?” The second voice can barely muster the courage to ask the question.

“What d’ya mean how? Stay out by The Pit for the night.” The first sneers.

“Alone?” The second squeaks.

“Of course alone, unless you’re chicken.” The second voice mumbles a response to this which clearly amuses the first. “Well Gary’s older brother was always a pussy, no matter what got him. Whatever, I knew you’d bitch out. Lets go to my house and play video games.”

Two little boys race through the parking lot and run across the street without even a glance for traffic. Mitch shakes his head at the lunatic freedom of youth. He was like that once, but the caution that comes with age has been earned the hard way. Now Mitch looks left, right, up, down and, sideways. Every choice requires deliberation, every step deserves measured consideration.

When he started his quest he had expected a quick resolution, or at least hoped for one. As the days of summer slide by he has accepted that he may not find the sign that he seeks. Signs are all around him though and Mitch follows them. Today it seems the universe is pointing him to a mysterious pit. With an open heart he begins to search the woods around Eastwall. He splits into eight Mitches and sweeps the forest for anything resembling a pit. As dusk settles in a Mitch finds it, a path leading to a hole in the forest floor that swallows light and spits back a darkness that strikes at Mitch’s heart. The Mitches converge and meld into a singularity. Then he sits down and waits.

What is Mitch waiting for? He isn’t certain, but he listens to his instincts. The night settles into a gentle normalcy that makes Mitch doubt his purpose here. Kids make up stories all the time, maybe that’s all this is, a myth started by older boys to keep the younger ones out of the way. An hour after midnight, just as Mitch determines that there is nothing, something happens. He almost doesn’t notice at first because it’s subtle, but a glowing pale light shimmers deep in the heart of the pit. With a long steady breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, Mitch plunges into the deeper blackness underground.

The dark closes in on him with a weight that would crush a lesser man. But Mitch is a hero. The noises in the dark threaten to distract him, shift his purpose. Echoes of his inner turmoil bounce off the cave walls to tease him with stories that only fools or idiots would credit. Though he does not encourage these fantasies he cannot help but be mesmerized by the stupidity. Without noticing, Mitch has stopped moving, all his will focused on filtering out the noise until only reality is left. His task and his quest merge into this single moment. The sign he seeks is close, a few steps away perhaps. But he is patient and will not allow his fear to accept a sign that does not fit the power of his mighty spirit. When Mitch gets signed by the sign that belongs to him that signing will reverberate throughout the cosmos. Nothing less will do.

The glow flickers briefly once more and Mitch speeds up. He splits into thirty Mitches and grasps the shoulder of the Mitch to his left and his right. The Mitches move in a mass, like an ooze flowing through the dark tunnel filling every cranny. The pale glow is sporadic but it is unmistakable. The Mitches quicken their pace, knowing that they are close, then three of him are falling. In his haste Mitch ran into a crack in the floor of the cave. The Mitches are too far apart to recombine and the hole is deep enough that he falls for nearly two full minutes. When they do land the splat is mercifully instantaneous. Mitch still feels three individual deaths though, like he does every time. Worse then the sudden peek into entropy is the knowledge that whatever is down here, it’s not the sign that Mitch has been looking for.

The twenty seven remaining Mitches split in two and fifty four Mitches spend the next hour blocking off the tunnel. He doesn’t even care to see what causes the glow, some vindictive spirit or an unstable portal, it doesn’t matter as long as no one falls into the hole anymore. The legend will still keep kids awake at night and if there is any real danger the Toronto Maple Leafs will end it.

Disappointed, Mitch reverts to a singularity and curls up for a few hours of uncomfortable rest. He wakes before the dawn and finds his way back to the road. An early bird whistles a sweet greeting and Mitch feels his positive energy growing. Maybe today will be the day.