Weekly Short Story

"Henry: The Trip" by CSCHWEIZER (continued from the newsletter)

The horizon becomes a sunrise, and slowly, it becomes so bright that I can see a field of heads with crowns of shimmering rainbow thorns leaning back in wooded seats. I begin to feel the hardness of the wood head rest; the knot on the back of my skull acting like a pivot-point making my head see-saw back and forth, never finding a center spot. Then the brightness increases, I become aware of the seat itself. I am held captive in a wooden chair among a crowd of people. Then all at once, as the room is at its brightest pale sunset blue, the people begin to squirm and move and finally, they all begin to pop up. First, one at a time, then in groups of twos and threes…then the whole room starts to rise. Like human popcorn. I feel as if I am being swallowed as I sink into the wood of the seat. Then they begin to file out the exit in slow, unsteady rows and movements…like drunken ants.

I feel my face…it is wet. I discover that everything feels wet. A panic sets in. I do not want the other ants to see me soaking wet. I look around avoiding eye contact, and decide to wait until the ants all leave the room.

Behind me, somewhere close, I can hear small child-like giggling. It grows and then is echoed by another voice…also giggling. The two increase in volume and I can feel the noise creep over the back of the wooded head rest and slip into my ears. I slump down in the seat to avoid drowning in this noise, but it increases and then becomes several voices all giggling together. Then I hear myself joining in.

The room swells as the new light replaces the dark, even the empty seats seem to undulate as if riding a soft swell in the ocean. Across the horizon is a soft sunrise, fading from orange yellow to pale blue to dark night purple, complete with stars, right above my head. I can see the curve of the atmosphere, the ionosphere, the stratosphere…and out past the tiny pricks of starlight to the swollen edge of the universe. I hear the giggling coming from a spot way beyond the confines of the domed enclosure. And then I hear the giggling echo throughout the almost empty room. The panic begins again. The urge to leave grows and I realize that I and my five laughing friends are the only ants left in the space.

A soft soothing voice booms out, “Thank you for coming…please find your way to the nearest exit as this concludes our show for this evening.” And I am sure it added, “Beware of the Big Cheese…Goodnight.”

When I finally rose, I found that all my friends had already left. For a second it was just me, the waving ocean of empty wooden seats, and what looked like to be a giant black metal spider hovering in the exact center of the room. I stared and it seemed to be moving. I looked closer and decided that it was indeed moving. Then the spiders’ voice spoke softly in the empty chamber, “Please find the nearest exit as this concludes the shows for tonight” it paused and turned directly towards me and added, “…Dude…please…LEAVE!” I apologized to the giant moving spider, thanked it for some reason, and found an opening that showed me the way out of its lair.

Once outside I felt the sudden feeling of open space. I could see the city glowing below to my left and way off to the right, and beyond in the darkness, was the Pacific Ocean. I was standing on the top of the world in a giant castle…or so I imagined for a second. The concrete walls seemed castle-like and the domed roof of the building appeared regal. But then I thought, “What a bad place it would be if there was an earthquake…”

I wandered around the bottom of the curved dome feeling its hardness with my hand as I passed. I heard a commotion on the other side and hurried to the sound, scraping my fingernails along the concrete.

I stood at the top of the stairwell with the cliff dropping below me to the right and a small parking lot to the left. In the lot were a few old cars and some kids. I stared at the cars. They were brand new, but the style was straight from the late 1940’s, like taxis in New York. They were deep shiny black and looked like two hulking beetles conversing at the edge of the parking lot. I rubbed my eyes.

The kids seemed to be arguing about something. They all were dressed to match the style of the cars. The girls had skirts and cardigan sweaters and the boys had jeans and leather jackets…all except for two. One had a large suit on and the other was wearing a bright red jacket. I watched until the argument escalated into a fight.

The red jacket guy and one of the leather dudes suddenly pulled out knives and were poking at each other with them. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. But it was happening. I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them, the scene below me dissolved into a whirlwind mist and vanished.

The trees around the parking lot flashed with light. I heard the sound of engines and cars coming from the front of the domed building. The lights began to flash red and blue. I continued around the curved dome to the front. I stopped just as I reached the front steps leading down to the lawn and was suddenly blinded by floodlights from the road beyond.

Facing the building was a row of police cars. They too were from the late 1940’s or early 1950s. There were lights flashing and headlights pointing at the front of the building. There were also big flood lights making the night seem like day. There was a small crowd of people behind the cars and everyone’s attention was to the front door of the building 50 feet to my left.

I heard voices, but I could not make out the words. I saw the guy in the suit run from the building and suddenly the row of police cars exploded in gunfire and flashes of light. I hunkered down and tried to get small.

The guy in the suit dropped to the ground and I heard voices come from the door way. The guy in red emerged slowly, weeping and holding his hand out. (He no longer wore the red jacket and was simply wearing jeans and a white tee shirt.) His hand was held out painfully and his face was wrought tight in confused agony. He was stumbling towards the row of police and speaking. I could just make out a few words, “…got the bullets! I’ve got the bullets!” he appeared to be saying.

When he got to the slumped body on the ground I heard someone behind the row of lights say, “Cut!” and then the guy in the suit got up. The other guy started to smile as he helped him stand. The police relaxed and a few lit cigarettes. The flashing lights went off, and the floodlights glowed orange as they began to cool.

I stood there for a second not sure what I was seeing. The two guys walked off towards the line of cops and they all seemed pleased and shook hands. More cigarettes were lit and soon all I could see in the growing darkness was the glowing ends floating around like fireflies. The people seemed to vanish in the same whirlwind mist that the cars disappeared into. Soon the orange dancing cherries vanished and I felt alone. Everybody was gone. The parking lot was empty. I heard the wind sift through the pine trees. I felt it brush on my face. It smelled fresh and clean and salty like the sea.

My thoughts were interrupted by my realization that I was indeed alone. I had arrived with five other dudes and now, they too, seemed to have vanished. Before panic could begin I heard a familiar giggling from the opposite corner of the building.

I followed it across the front where the long wide steps led down to a long grassy area. People were suddenly streaming about everywhere, laughing and talking, all headed away from the building to the modern vehicles in the parking lot. There, on the lawn, were my fellow ‘compadrés’…They all were rolling around on the grass like children oblivious to the throngs of people milling about and heading to their cars. They were laughing and crying and literally rolling around as if it was the middle of the afternoon opposed to 1 AM on a Tuesday.

I watched for a while until they all calmed down a bit. Then upon seeing me, they all again burst out in a chorus of male giggles. In my mind I demanded to know what was so funny, but instead, I also began to giggle. It was infectious. I then found myself joining them on the cold wet grass until we were all exhausted and lying on our backs staring up into the night sky. Then the spinning began.

First everything twisted and shifted to the left and I half pushed up on my arm to keep my self level. This shifted the spinning to the right and I collapsed back on the grass and closed my eyes. The giant hammers were there off in the distance coming closer.

I heard someone say, “Push on your eyeballs”. This seemed to make sense and I did so. An explosion of white and blue and black exploded in ice crystal fractals and I felt myself being sucked down into the lawn carpet. I was flying through a tunnel avoiding the fractal shapes as they flew closely by. Then I heard the giggle sound again and felt it coming from inside of me. I stopped pushing and waited for the darkness to come into focus; when I opened my eyes the others guys were all lying there pushing on their eyeballs and sighing with astonishment and wonder.

Everybody else had cleared out. All the other ants had found their ant transport vehicles and the ant road was empty.

I am not sure how long we lay there in the wet grass damaging our vision, but it was quiet and peaceful. The wind came now in occasional soft bursts. Looking up from the ground the tips of the pines sprung to life and flowed like seaweed shadows against an invisible curtain. The sky above was black water, luminous with stars. Each star seemed to have a double star that would slowly drift away from it and then back. I could feel the damp earth turning against my back and the pressure of the universe upon my chest.

It was a moment of peace in the throng of the city of angels.

This undersea adventure was shattered by the soft sound of my friends moving, and then all slowly appearing in my line of view. I heard one of them exclaim matter-of-factly, “I see Satan…” Another replied in the same un-astonished tone, “Yep…I do to.” The others muttered in positive agreement, as each saw his own devil.

Then they said nothing, and for once, the walk to the truck was made in silence. Each guy was wandering alone. It appeared they, too, were having their own revelations of universal pressure and peace.

The truck was parked a few hundred yards down a small hill at the mouth of a tunnel. We had arrived late and the lot and road were full all the way down the hill. Somehow Dick managed to squeeze in between a huge boulder and the tunnel. He was quite the skilled driver.

I arrived at the truck last. The other guys were standing around looking befuddled and puzzled. They all seemed to be thinking. They spoke in silence with their eyes. I was confused and could not interpret the language. An invisible question hung in the air…

Finally Dick spoke, he answered quite slowly, “Get in the truck…its cool.” I understood the problem. Collectively the guys were afraid that Dick could not drive, and we would all be stranded. I had been too busy thinking about the devil and the seaweed trees to figure this out.

The guys all leaped into the bed of the truck and claimed their spots. Dick climbed in behind the wheel. I stayed out to help Dick maneuver around the rock. I saw him fumble with the seat belt; and the windshield wipers went on followed by the headlights. The guys, and the truck engine, remained silent.

I walked over to the passenger window. Dick was sitting with his hands on the wheel at 10-and-2 staring at the keys. He was startled to see my head pop in. “Are you, OK?” I asked. He whispered back as if it was a secret, “Are we moving?” he asked. I went to the bed of the truck. “Someone else needs to drive,” I explained. With sudden confidence, as if it were 2 PM instead of after 2 AM, Phil casually leaped from the truck bed and said, “I’ll drive…if you be the co-pilot” and he pointed at me.

Dick seemed confused but grateful as he slid from the driver’s seat and took a spot in the truck bed. It was odd to see him there. In fact, it was the first time ever on record. It was his truck and he was the driver...that was the rule. He sat dumbfounded, as if he had just tripped inches away from winning the gold in the Olympics.

Phil got in and I took the co-pilot seat. We had a little meeting to discuss our functions. As driver he was in charge of physically keeping the vehicle moving in a normal fashion. As co-pilot, I was in charge of everything else. My primary functions were to watch out for obstacles, check the speedometer, and keep the car between the lines of the road by giving such directions as “a little left…now slow down…good…now speed up a little and hold it there…a bit to the right….good…”

All this was decided and Phil turned front to begin the trip. He stared at the dash board for a while. The he said, “How does it go?” I pointed to the keys hanging from the steering wheel. He reached for them and started the ignition. The night silence was broken by the engine coming alive in a thundering roar. He smiled, gave me the thumbs up sign, and grabbed the wheel in both hands.

The engine raced and screamed, but the truck remained in place. Again, he pushed on the gas and again the car rocked and vibrated, but did not leave its spot. From behind I could hear Dick protesting and Phil eased off the pedal. He seemed puzzled.

“It won’t go,” he said.

“Use the clutch,” I replied.

“Clutch?" he questioned.

“Yes…clutch,” I repeated.

“Oh…” he paused. “I can’t drive a stick.”

He got out of the drivers side and calmly climbed into the truck bed, satisfied, as if this had somehow solved all our problems. I followed and stood by the side of the truck. The guys now looked worried. It broke my heart. They sat all stuffed in the bed of this small Toyota very unsure about what to do. They looked at me with big black eyes that slid open in their faces. Their bodies started to wriggle about and the truck looked like a big box full of larvae. They began to whine and cry with their bugging eyes begging me to help them. I smiled at the creatures and decided I would drive.

I reached into the squirming mass and grabbed one of the beasts to be my copilot. It was Phil again. He knew the rules and I am sure he could handle it. I tossed him onto the passengers’ seat and slipped behind the wheel.

The writhing in the truck bed settled down. The choice of driver seemed to satisfy them. This was their first Transformation and had no idea what to expect. I had already been through it, and I had an idea of the process. Logically, I should be the chosen one to lead them on their safe journey home.

I quickly reviewed the rules with Phil and managed to get the truck started. I felt the truck lift forward as I maneuvered the pedals. It had been a while since I drove, but the movements came naturally….yes…just like riding a bike. The truck surged forward some more…then the engine raced and then the rear tires spun. The truck slid a little and then stopped.

I turned the wheel and the rear continued to slide. The front of the truck was stuck on something which was acting as a pivot point. I switched to reverse, and slowly backed into the darkness. The truck bed came alive with noise. I looked in the rearview mirror.

My larvae buddies had split from their cocoons and were now an assorted variety of life-size insects. Their thin insect legs were fluttering and waving wildly. The many eyes were wide with terror. Their pointy insect beaks were open and screaming. I slammed on the brakes.

One by one they hopped, crawled, and flew out of the truck bed, and were assembled in the front of the truck. The four creatures were panting and breathing hard in the glare of the headlamps. They were squealing at me, implying, “Stop!”

I put the parking brake on and turned off the engine. Phil lay there un-Transformed and useless. He was busy licking the corner of his shirt and was not paying attention at all. I ignored him and got out.

The insects were speaking and gesturing towards the rear of the truck. They were all chirping at once, and I could not understand a thing. I pointed to the one with the blue hat and told the others to be quiet. Blue Hat began to speak, but I still could not understand him. He was speaking ‘Insectish’; a language I was not well-versed in.

I walked to the rear of the truck and stopped just as I neared the rear tire. Beyond the end of the truck was blackness. I moved closer and spit towards the void. My spittle flew out of sight into the black and I heard it hit the earth ten seconds later. The truck had slid to the edge of a cliff and was hanging over nothing.

I retuned to the insect gang. The front of the truck was against the large boulder acting as the pivot. And, apparently, was intended to stop people from heading off the road and into the abyss. The space between it and the tunnel was narrow, but Dick knew how to park his truck, and managed to squeeze us into a space that no one would dare to park in the daylight. It also explained why it was the only empty spot when we arrived.

The insects were slowly re-morphing into recognizable human-like forms, but still had the odd antennae or fuzzy leg showing. We stood around the rock discussing the best plan of extraction. It was clear by the position of the vehicle that there was no way to safely drive it around the rock. The only solution was: move the rock and drop the truck into 4-wheel drive.

Dick magically produced some crowbars and tire irons from the depths of the vehicle, and we began digging away at the base of the large stone. Phil remained in the cab drooling and picking at his soaking shirt.

Within twenty minutes the insects and I had scratched an indention large enough to topple the rock into. It was just a small hole beneath the rock, and our intention was to shift it over a foot or so. We all, except Phil, got behind the rock and collectively shoved it.

It shifted and bit and the ground seemed to quiver, we repeated the move. It rolled a little more and then back towards us. Using this momentum, and their insect-induced strength, we all pushed hard with the weight of the stone. This time it rolled over easily.

Maybe the hole was too big, or maybe we were using too much super-insect strength, whatever the case may be, we moved the rock. We cheered, as it rolled into our divot. We were surprised, when it rolled out of our hole and continued onto the road. We were frozen with disbelief, when it rolled down the small incline toward the tunnel. We began to laugh in shock, when it entered the tunnel, gaining speed. We were giddy, when it slammed against the tunnel walls sending broken tiles in its wake. We jumped up and down, as it made it through the tunnel. We were silent, when it slipped off the road and over the edge into the darkness.

We could hear it crashing and smashing and blasting its way down through the trees. The sound echoed and sounded like cannon fire; and the ground rumbled as it bounced and hit each tree. Finally it stopped, and there was silence.

“Did that just happen?” I heard Dick ask, his voice like a pubescent cricket.

We were aware that there were many homes scattered in the woods below. We waited, there was only silence. I expected screaming and a lot of lights going on, but there was nothing but the sound of the wind, high in the seaweed trees.

I instructed the guys to push the truck as I drove it away from the edge. Without incident we had it on the road. The boys, now fully recognizable but still insect-like, resumed their spots in the bed. Phil had ceased gnawing at his shirt, and sat there fresh and eager as if it was the first day of school.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” he answered; his face flickered, and I saw the devil.

I shook it off and we slowly entered the tunnel, heading down the dark deserted road for the city below.

The apartment was about twenty minutes from where we were…everything in the City of Angels is about twenty minutes away from everything else. The problem was…I did not know the way. I knew I had to wind down from the mountains and make a few turns to the freeway. From there I was comfortable. Our exit was a major street and, once there, our apartment was only a few stoplights away.

I made it through the bright tunnel carefully avoiding the piles of broken tiles on the pavement. We passed the spot where we saw the rock disappear. There was a dark gaping hole in the weeds and trees the size of the rock. I shuddered to think of what surprise some homeowner has waiting for them in the morning. We drove on into the night.

I could barely see the road. Phil suddenly sprung to life and yelled, “LEFT!” I jerked the wheel to the left just in time to avoid going over and into the ditch. The creatures in the back cheered. I focused my eyes on the white lines at the sides of the road; Phil was alert enough now to handle the rest…damp, but alert.

After several successful hairpin corners and tight switchbacks, we broke out of the trees and entered the flat valley floor. The rustic nature gave way to domesticated beech tree-lined streets and rows of houses fronted by well trimmed lawns. Except for us, the neighborhood was lifeless.

Phil instructed me to turn left and right a few times. He apparently knew the way and I was grateful to be driving on straight roads with right angles. In the distance I could see the sky-glow of the city towering high in the air, shimmering like yellow and green cellophane, looming above the suburban skies.

I could hear the roar of the main streets and the freeway beyond. It was just a few more turns until we left the quietness and became part of the late-night rush hour. I turned the wheel as directed by Phil and we both yelled out. I slammed on the brakes with both feet. The boys crashed into a pile against the rear of the cab with a shrill shriek.

In the middle of the road was the boulder.

I heard the four in the back break into chatter. They were speaking ‘Insectish’ again, and when I checked the mirror, all I saw was thin black arms and legs, antennae and tentacles. Phil was staring at the rock with his mouth open, drooling in horror.

The rock sat there and seemed to glower. It appeared to smile a Cheshire cat grin and be laughing at me. I looked back up the road. It led up to the base of the hill and made a sharp turn. At the end of the turn were two houses with nice lawns and decent landscaping. The rear opened up into the woods above.

Between these homes was a dark gap similar to the one on the road above near the tunnel. The neatly trimmed bushes were sliced apart, and the lawn was ripped open from the backyards to the street. A delicate border of bright colored flowers, once incredibly high now lay crushed at the curb.

The rock continued to grin and taunt me. It started to expand and split; from deep inside there was a creaking sound, like an old clipper ship being thrashed in a storm. The Cheshire smile turned into a painful grimace as hairline fractures appeared all over its surface. The truck began to shake, and the trees dropped tangerine leaves. Car alarms sounded throughout the neighborhood and the boulder crumbled into a pile of gravel. It lasted for seven seconds and then all was still.

The insects in the back were clutching the edge of the truck and were riding the bed like a boat on a river, being tossed by the rapids. Phil was rubbing his eyes and licking his shirt again. The cab filled with a pulsing marmalade light. In front of the cab was an orange- and-white sawhorse barrier with a safety light on top. This was one of several surrounding some construction equipment and street repair materials.

Lights began to come on in the surrounding houses. The car alarms continued to shriek into the early morning. I carefully drove around the flashing barrier and continued slowly down the leaf-littered street.

We reached the main boulevard and Phil managed to stop suckling long enough to direct me to the freeway. I drifted out of the quiet canopy of trees into the false tangerine day of the well-lit city. I felt confidant and sure of myself now. I saw a fire engine race by, silent, but with lights flashing. Except for that, the streets were relatively empty, and I managed to get on the freeway with ease.

The traffic was thick for the hour. It must have been later than I thought. Maybe this was the early start of the daily rush hour. I never saw the morning rush. The only time I saw the sun rise was on nights like these when I was up all night. The sky was still dark above the city lights and there was no sign of morning, yet here were people zipping along to destinations unknown.

I had been driving in second gear most of the way and now I was sluggishly trying to get up to speed. I made it up to fourth before entering the rapidly flowing stream of cars. It was too fast for me and I gripped the wheel tightly in both hands.

In the street light everything was yellow-orange against the sharp dark horizon. I tried to focus on the road. It blurred beneath me into grey black stripes. I felt the bumps of the center line under the truck as I crossed into the fast lane.

Phil was suddenly alert and telling me to slow down. I began to sweat and the dividing wall came closer. I hit the bumps on the side of the road and Phil reached over, grabbed the wheel, and corrected the truck before we hit. The insects in the back let out a whoop and we crossed back into the middle lane.

I felt ice-blue anxiety and cold sweat crawling down my back. I shivered. Phil let go and I regained control. I focused on the white lines on the sides of the truck and they became a single stripe leading me like an invisible guiding guard rail. I looked up and saw our exit in the distance.

Ahead and to my left, I saw a cigarette-chain of brake lights flowing towards me.

“Phil, what’s that?” I asked, freaked out.

“What?” Phil replied, becoming the devil again.

“That…up ahead in the fast lane,” I said, ignoring the change.

“What?” he repeated, resuming his normal ‘Phil’ posture.

I stared at the chain of lights and suddenly I saw smoke and flames. The cars scattered out of line up ahead and several rolled and flipped high into the air. There was an explosion that sent a fireball into the night sky. Cars smashed into each other and tires smoked everywhere. A few cars drove directly off the freeway crashing to the streets below.

“Jesus!" I screamed.

Phil grabbed the dash board as I swerved the car to the right towards our exit.

“What the hell?” he demanded. “What are you doing? Slow down, Dude!”

“The cars!” I stammered. “They’re all crashing!”

Phil looked confused.

“Dude, what are you talking about? The road is clear! Slow down!”

I was going over 90 mph and making a beeline for our exit. I did not care about lanes or other cars. I was in a panic and I needed to get off the freeway. I fearfully looked towards the scene of the carnage.

Phil was right. It was clear. There was nothing wrong. The traffic was flowing normally. There was no accident. There was no fire. There was noting amiss.

I passed a car on the right too close. I heard it honk in a fading warning protest as I flew past. I made it back to the center lane and slowed the truck down. My exit was farther away than I thought.

“Duuuuude,” Phil said in a long drawn out cautioning sigh. “Are you ok?”

I thought for a second. Was I ok?

“Are the cars all smashed?” I asked.

“No man, everything is cool; you are just driving like a madman.”

“But, I saw the cars…up ahead…in the fast lane…they were all piling up and crashing into each other…”

“No, dude,” he said in a soothing voice. “Everything is fine. You just need to chill.”

With that he pointed to the road ahead. It was indeed fine.

“See?” he soothed.

“Yeah…but I though I saw something. I thought I caused an accident somehow.”

“But that is impossible. You can’t cause an accident up ahead of you…only behind you.”

This made logical sense and I relaxed into the last half mile to our exit.

“Is everything cool?” Phil asked.

“Yeah…all is good.”

We both breathed deeply and started to laugh. We were looking at the spot where I thought I saw the accident. We saw the sudden flash of a brake light. The cars up ahead all slammed on their brakes and began to slide and skid all over the road. This was really happening. I felt the truck shimmy and slide as if I was driving on ice. All the cars around me seemed to have lost control.

Up ahead I saw three cars collide. A fourth hit the pile broadside, and then a fifth, and a sixth. Phil screamed a shrill child-like scream. Other cars around me began to slam into the pile. I hit the gas pedal and made a bee-line for our exit.

The cars were smashing and bouncing around as if made of rubber. Gas and smoke filled the night. Tires screamed in protest and the air smelled of gasoline. The pile-up reached us. The car directly in front of us slid sideways into the yellow water filled plastic barriers protecting the concrete block dividing the freeway from our exit.

I missed hitting it by three feet; the barrels exploded in a fountain of water. The insects in the back were soaked and half a barrel of water flew in my open window. Phil and I were drenched.

I sped down the off ramp. The truck bed was full of water, and the insects were screaming, drowning, in their pool. The curve of the off ramp stretched wide in a huge complete circle to the right. I was going too fast; I turned into the curve with little abrupt turns of the steering wheel. This caused the truck to sway and lurch violently with our uneven load. I drove in a hexagonal pattern down to the safety of the streets below.

I was in a panic now. Phil was stretched tight in his seat holding on with half-human half-insect limbs; his Transformation was happening. The light was red, but I was on a mission. I had to get back to the safety of my room. My buggy friends needed to re-cocoon and relax; we needed to stop this insane ride.

I blew through the light and turned on the main street. I did the same with the remaining three lights, two stop signs, and drove the rest of the route through the back alleys. I was convinced I had caused the wreck and I thought ‘they’ were coming to get me.

I made the final turn into our driveway and turned the ignition off. All was calm.

I was soaking wet. Phil was wet. The insects were wet and swimming in the pool that had formed in the truck bed. Blue Hat was having a hard time keeping his head out of the water. I leaped from the driver’s seat and dove in to rescue him.

The water felt cool against my panicked flesh. I grabbed Blue Hat by several legs and tossed him free of the truck. Dick and the others had managed to save themselves and I was alone in the water.

I heard them scurry into the apartment. The passenger door opened and closed letting loose a small flood. Phil crawled out and appeared in my view.

“We made it,” his soaking face said. “Good job.”

He briefly became the devil before disappearing into the apartment.

I sat in the truck bed and floated for a while. The night was still again. The sky was silent and dark. I could see the stars and their twins drifting away beyond. I was alone and the panic melted away into the pool. I felt like a lump of lard in a hot frying pan. I heard myself sizzle.

The sizzle became a buzzing. Around my head I saw a little speck of black zipping about in frenzy. It became louder as it buzzed close to my ear; my spine shuddered and another piece of flesh merged with the water. The pool became warm and my bladder seemed to relax. The black spot stopped buzzing and landed on my head.

The truck bed pool became rank-smelling and thick. The buzzing resumed and I felt my hair lift. It was pulling me up out of the murky swamp. My body resisted and became heavy as I was pulled from the water. The spot carried me up and away above the truck.

We were soon above the apartment and the streetlights. The city lights dropped away like an elevator and I saw the grid-like streets below. The horizon loomed below us and was spotted with trails of smoke scattered here and there leading up from the earth and forming a shroud over the city.

I could see flashing lights surrounding the base of the lines of smoke. Fire engines and police cars and emergency vehicles were zipping along the maze of streets. The air held a quality of danger.

Without warning, the buzzing spot let go and I dropped fast and heavy towards the earth. The apartment below grew larger and larger. I closed my eyes and screamed as I plummeted, the friction of the air rushing past pulled at my skin. My body felt electric and squeezed tight by an unknown pressure. The buzzing returned and I heard myself screaming as I broke through the roof of the apartment.

The screaming stopped. My body stopped moving. I felt softness below me. I was still and comfortable. I opened my eyes.

Above me was the freckled pebbled plaster ceiling of my room. The light from the hallway cast a lunar shadow across the surface. The buzzing spot flew into vision, black against the whiteness. It flew and hovered directly in front of me and began laughing; it was a high-pitched ‘Insectish’ laugh. I swatted at it and yelled, “Go away!”

From the doorway several heads appeared. I heard them speaking.

“Is he awake?” said Blue Hat. “I think so,” replied Phil.

“He’s all wet,” Dick observed.

“Yeah,” Phil sighed.

“I can’t believe he slept through those tremors. Do you think he is ok? He has been lying there for hours,” Blue Hat was concerned.

“Yeah, he will be fine. This happens sometimes,” explained Phil.

“What does?” inquired Blue Hat.

“He disappears into his own world for a while,” Phil continued.

“How long?” pursued Blue Hat.

“He says, ‘As long as it takes’,” Phil said, adding air quotes with his fingers.

“For what?” Dick inquired.

“His ‘Transformation’,” Phil explained, again with the air quotes.

“His what?” both guys asked in unison.

“Never mind…ask him tomorrow…I am sure he will be happy to tell you all about it.”

“What should we do,” Blue Hat asked.

“Nothing…just wait...this should help.”

I watched as Phil quietly entered the room; he was completely oblivious the laughing black spot hovering in front of me. He reached the stereo and pushed ‘play’ on the tape deck. A soft floating music entered the room and coated my soul. The black spot screamed. I swatted at it and sat upright. I reached out towards Phil, Dick, and Blue Hat.

“If you see a bug…kill it,” I heard my self say calmly.

With that, the buzzing spot screamed and vanished, obviously overcome by the frequencies coming from the speakers. The music enveloped my body. I felt it curl warm against my damp skin. I closed my eyes. Web-like kaleidoscope fractal patterns swirled in my minds-eye. Giant hammers strode forcefully and purposely in unison toward me from somewhere in the distance beyond

“Its getting better,” I told myself. “Everything is going to be just fine”.

Finally, I leaned back into the comfort and safety of my well-deserved marshmallow bed. Somebody spoke and I fell into a dream…hard-backed musical bugs, slow-dancing with the devil, sung to me…and soon, I was fast asleep.

Next week... "Henry - He Stumbles Blindly"

Read last week's story "Henry: The Promise" in Newsletter #2

 

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