Crown Vic to a Parallel World

18

And the Winner is…Me?

I woke, but I didn’t open my eyes.  I left them closed to reason out a few things that didn’t make sense.  I didn’t remember going to sleep and that seemed strange.  Well…not exactly strange.  I was long used to waking up without remembering going to sleep.  Passing out night after night after night has a tendency to condition one to that.

What was strange was the last thing I remembered was fighting Bem.  Well…not fighting exactly.  I remembered exerting a ton of effort and achieving exactly no results.  That wasn’t unusual either.  In fact, that thought would describe large portions of my life, perhaps all of it.

I felt Shawn was very close.  He was worried and angry and afraid.  ‘Well, that’s normal at least.’ I thought.  I opened my eyes, closed them right away, and opened them again.  I squinted into a light panel ceiling with a square hole in the middle of it and a cracked catalyst in the middle of the hole.  I was laying on my back on the padded floor of the dojo room.  I was quite comfortable and felt pretty good.

Ars stood to my left and looked worried.  Bem knelt next to me on the same side and also looked worried.  On my right, Shawn knelt and looked worried.  “What’s up?”  I asked.

“How do you feel?”  Shawn replied to my question with a question.

“OK.”

“Can you breathe?”

“Seem to be able to.” I took a deep breath and felt lung capacity I didn’t know I had. “Actually, I feel like I can breathe to my toes.”

“Can you sit up?”  He asked.

To answer him, I sat up.  My shirt pulled.  It was stuck to my front.  I tried to unstick it with a quick tug from my right hand, but when I reached for the fabric, my hand touched a sticky, slimy mess.  I looked down at myself to see what I’d spilled on my shirt and discovered that my entire shirtfront was reddish brown and matted with congealing blood.  “Someone want to tell me about this?” I asked and looked to Shawn.

“You tripped.”  Bem said, using a very small, very flat voice.

“I had to fix you.”  Shawn whispered.  “I didn’t have enough power to do everything.  I had to…I had to take yours.  I used a lot.  Are you sure you feel well?”

I answered honestly.  “I’m hungry, other than that, I feel great.  You know, except for not understanding what’s going on.”  I scanned the group in the hope that one of them would offer an explanation I could grasp.

Bem started, his voice picked up some inflection as he went.  “When the catalyst broke, I decided to goad you as much as I could to see if you could be trusted with your power.  That’s why I kept hitting you.  I wanted to make you angry.”

I asked the obvious question.  “What if I killed you?”

“Then I’d be dead.”  Bem replied with a verbal shrug.  I could tell he meant it and I wondered why anyone would be willing to risk their lives just to test my self-control.  I didn’t get a chance to ask before he continued the story.

“I knew you were angry and almost at your limit.  I kept pushing you.  You rushed me and fell against the display.” His eyes flicked to the back of the room then returned to me. “The ax handle went into your chest.”

Shawn took up the thread.  “It destroyed your right lung and filled the left with blood.  They were so damaged you needed new ones.  I didn’t have the power, no individual would.  I had to,” he darted his eyes away from me, down to the floor in an introspective posture, “I can’t even believe what I’m about to say,” he raised his eyes to meet mine, “I had to use your magic, direct it to grow new lungs, knit your ribs, and accelerate the production of blood to replace what you lost.”

“You used my magic?” I asked.  The way Shawn was talking about it, he made it sound like it was something amazing, but I didn’t know enough about magic to know why he seemed so surprised.

“I’ve never done anything like it.” Shawn admitted. “I didn’t even know it was possible.  I…it took everything I had just to stop the bleeding.  I didn’t have any more, but your body needed so much.  When we were connected, I felt your power.  It was like it offered itself to me.  I found out that I could take your magic, channel it through my ability and use it to heal you.  It was…it made me feel…there was so much.  Without it, you’d be dead.  It was your magic that replaced your lungs and did the other work.  I was just the conduit.”

I still didn’t really get what was so amazing, but I didn’t think any number of questions would make me understand.  Besides, there were still many insane questions left for me to ask.  I felt up and down my chest and asked one of them.  “But where are my old lungs.  How did you get them out without taking my shirt off?”

Shawn shook his head.  “It doesn’t work that way.  I broke them down and used the tissue to make the new.  I think that’s why you’re hungry.  All the work your body did…the magic I used to rebuild you, your metabolism must have increased to make the magic.”

“So…everything is fine now.”  I said as a question.

“Yes, everything is fine.” Shawn explained like he barely believed it himself.

I shifted around and got to my feet.  Shawn and Bem stood.  In the corner of the room, the ax lay on the floor, the handle coated rusty-brown.  Against the wall, a big, angry, maroon puddle stained the padded floor.  I felt a stab of guilt, which was better than the stab of a pointed ax handle.  “I guess it was my fault for not making sure the damn thing went back the way it was supposed to.  I’m glad you were here, Shawn or I guess I’d be dead.”  I set a bloody, but grateful hand on his shoulder and was thrilled when he didn’t shrink away from me.  “Thank you for saving me.”

Shawn’s mouth gaped in surprise.  Bem was equally taken aback and voiced his concern.  “But aren’t you angry with me?”

I took my hand from Shawn’s shoulder.  His shirt pulled with the sticky blood on my palm, and I winced at the sight of the smeary stain my touch left on him.  There was nothing I could do about it, so I turned my attention to Bem.  “I was when you were hitting me, but you told me why you did that, so…no.”

My shirtfront pulled again as I moved.  The pull reminded me that my clothes were ruined.  “Ars,” I asked, “could you send someone to my hotel for another outfit.  And…and I need to clean up, and can we get the cafeteria to send us something to eat?”

Shawn rubbed his eyes.  When he lowered his hands, his left clenched into a fist and his right closed around it and squeezed.  “Aren’t you…I don’t know, surprised at anything that just happened?”

Shawn’s question struck my sense of humor with a cartoon mallet.  I broke up in hysterical laughter.  Bem and Shawn and Ars all looked at me like I’d gone mad.  “Of course, I am.” I gasped. “Would you rather I freak out?  I don’t think I have any freak out left.”

I settled and caught my breath, which was much easier than it used to be. “I got my ass thoroughly handed to me by a guy half my size, I almost died, I look like a crime scene, and you tell me I have new lungs.  Aside from trashing my outfit, and fucking up the room, you could almost call this a win.”

Shawn looked and felt like he wanted to argue with me, but he couldn’t come up with a reason.  “I’ll go to the hotel.”  He offered.

I shook my head at him to decline his offer.  “I’d rather your uncle send someone.  I finally got you to come near me.  I’d like to keep you close for a while.”

Ars spoke for the first time since I’d opened my eyes.  He sounded rattled and that worried me.  “Yes, I will send someone.  Let us get Mister Philips cleaned up and go to my office.  We will have food sent up and can discuss the path forward.”

*          *          *          *

Sometime later, we were all in Ars’ office.  I was clean and dressed in a toga made from a white bed sheet.  The toga was an improvisation because nothing else could be found that was even remotely my size.  Over my toga, I had on my pastel green jacket and on my feet, were my neon green heels.

To my complete surprise, under the fabric, there was no trace of the impalement I’d suffered.  I took regular deep breaths to remind myself of the new lungs I had.  They felt great and my body felt lighter.  I assumed, now that my muscles were getting all the oxygen they needed, they worked better.

I was perched on the library ladder after refusing to jamb myself between the arms of one of the too-narrow visitor’s chairs in front of Ars’ desk.  In front of me was a cafeteria cart that supported plates of food.  I was consuming the first of two bacon cheeseburgers, each with an over-hard egg on top.  Between burger bites, I shoveled in golden steak fries loaded with ketchup and washed it down with black coffee drunk straight from the carafe.

Ars sat at his desk and chatted with Shawn and Bem while I stuffed my face.  The three of them directed occasional glances my way to check my progress and to gawk at the size of my meal.  Ars had a similar misunderstanding as the woman at the café when he took my lunch order.  “Who is the other meal for, young man?” He looked at me like he was looking over glasses he wasn’t wearing.

I’ll admit to mouthing off a little as I answered his question.  “ME!  Jesus FUCKING Christ, guys!  You all look at me like some carnival attraction because of my size, then when I order a me-size meal, you think I’ve got a second person hiding somewhere.  It’s just big, fat, gluttonous me!” I pounded my newly healed chest with my fist to emphasize my exclamation. “OK?  I mean, fuck.”

Ars nodded like his head was mounted on a spring.  “Yes, young man, yes, it is quite ‘OK’ as you put it.  I will call the order down as you have stated it.  We are not accustomed to a man of your stature or appetite.  No, not accustomed to it at all.  I will endeavor to be more sensitive.”  He lifted the phone receiver and dialed.

“Ars.” I called as someone on the other end of the phone answered.  Ars paused and covered the mouthpiece with his hand.  “Add a slice of chocolate cake please.”  I asked.  Ars grinned at my gluttonous addition to the gluttonous order I’d already given him.  He grinned and I shrugged.

I paid more attention to the discussion as I finished the second burger and moved on to a rectangular slice of chocolate cake with chocolate icing.  So far in the talk, Shawn had committed to being a member of the team and agreed to remain my chaperone.  He said the experience of watching the one-sided beating I took, which he generously referred to as ‘the match,’ gave him confidence in my self-control.

‘Yay, me.’ I thought sarcastically.  I was genuinely happy about the development, but I couldn’t help but feel a little miffed that I’d had to almost die to earn his trust.

Bem went over what he learned from our ‘match.’  “You’re too big.” He said with a glance over his shoulder at me.

“You have a stupid face.” I retorted childishly around a mouthful of cake.

It took Bem a second, but he got the joke and chuckled.  He stood from the visitor’s chair and moved to the edge of Ars’ desk so he could see all of us.  His left hand kneaded his right shoulder again, his right hand slipped into his pocket.

“I mean you’re too large and heavy to be nimble.  With training, I could teach you to do well against someone your size, but there isn’t anyone your size in this world.  I’d like to tell you to lose weight, but after reading up on how your magic works, I recognize that mass as potential magic.  I assume that we’re going to need all of that we can get.

“You’re focus will be weapons training.  I think projectile weapons will be best, a large caliber handgun and a rifle with a bayonet.  The rifles are built tough.  They can be used as short staffs or clubs if they run out of ammunition or if you are too close to an enemy to fire.  You’re strong and you have a long reach.  If you can keep an enemy from getting close to you, you will have a good chance of neutralizing them.”

Bem turned to Shawn.  “How is his body?”  He asked, referring to me.

Shawn’s clinical voice answered.  He faced Bem with his normal perfect posture and his hands folded in his lap.  “His respiratory system was the most urgent problem.  Before this morning, he was operating below sixty percent capacity.  His circulatory system, specifically his heart, needs attention.  It’s enlarged from high blood pressure and two valves are leaking.

“He has other miscellaneous damage, but nothing limiting to his performance.  His kidneys are scarred from the high blood pressure, but function adequately.  He has fatty liver and is in the early stages of cirrhosis but will continue to be asymptomatic for several years even if his current alcohol consumption remains constant.  His bones and joints are strong, though his knees could use some attention, and he has a well-developed musculature.”

Nothing in the report Shawn gave surprised me, except for the fact that he’d mentioned exactly no part of it to me.  I didn’t bother to ask him then, but I planned too later.

“Endurance?”  Bem asked.

Shawn considered and looked at me while he thought.  I felt like a draft animal up for sale.  “Capable of short bursts of speed, but certainly not a runner.  Very strong.  Can lift, carry, work, walk, climb, and function physically under adverse conditions for long periods of time without risk of exhaustion or collapse.”

“How strong?”  Bem sounded dubious when he asked.

Shawn sounded deliberately confident when he answered.  “He could march ten miles with a one-hundred-pound load, stop for lunch, and march another ten.  He could do that in ninety-degree heat or in twenty-degree cold.  The work he did on Earth was physically demanding.  No one on Solum performs as much manual labor in a week as he does in the average day.  He is well used to long hours and extreme temperatures.”

“How about you?”  Bem asked meaning Shawn.

“I can run a marathon and have.  I exercise regularly and climb for fun.  I don’t climb mountains.  I climb at an artificial climbing wall at a park by my apartment.  I can’t match Church in physical strength, but I could last as long as him at any reasonable physical task.”

“Do you have any training?”

“I went through The HALL’s required training when I started here a year ago.  They taught us advanced self-defense and I am proficient with energy weapons.”

“Has anyone ever talked to you about weaponizing your magic?”  Bem asked.

Shawn was horrified at the suggestion but managed not to show it.  “I am a physician.”  He answered like it was his last word on the matter.

Bem smacked his palms together and rubbed his hands.  “I think that does it.  Today was really a meet and greet and to find out what I was working with.  I have the information I need to develop a program for both of you.  Let’s start fresh tomorrow at eight.”  He shook hands with Ars and Shawn and strolled over to where I sat on the library ladder.

Bem stood a bit to the side of the cafeteria cart so he was as close to me as he could get without moving the cart.  I offered my hand to him.  He grabbed it, turned it palm down, pulled it to him, and licked the back of it with a quick swipe of the flat of his tongue.  I snatched my hand back and rubbed the licked part on my toga.  Bem laughed a lewd, cackling laugh and left.

“What was that about?”  Shawn asked after Bem was out the door.

I dipped a napkin in my coffee and scrubbed the back of my hand with it.  “As soon as we met, he hit on me.  He said I wouldn’t be a romp; I’d be a quest.  When I turned him down, he started teasing me.  I don’t think he’s gonna let it drop.”

Shawn’s ringing laugh filled the office.  That was another situation where I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t.  I enjoyed the sound of Shawn’s laughter too much to stay mad.

Ars waited for Shawn to finish before he broached a new subject.  “Mister Philips.” Ars addressed me as his palms gripped the edge of his desk.  He seemed tense.  “Mister Philips, we could have lost you today.  That does not sit well with me.  You are our salvation.  If you were to perish as the result of a trifling accident, all would be lost.  For your safety, I would like you to stay here and not leave this facility until you depart for the Demon’s Citadel.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.  I didn’t like Ars calling me anyone’s ‘salvation.’  I was still struggling with the idea that there was a prophesy, and I was the guy the prophesy foretold.  Ars had asked for my help, and I’d agreed to give it to him, whatever that meant.  I hadn’t agreed to what sounded like protective custody.  There were limits in how far I was willing to go to help Ars and Solum.  That didn’t include being ‘grounded’ until mission time.  “No.” I replied to Ars suggestion and swallowed the last sip of coffee in the pot.

Ars’ expression hardened and he threatened me with force.  “If you will not comply willingly, I will order you to stay.”

I wiped my mouth on a napkin, balled it up, and dropped it on my empty plate.  “Try it.”  I suggested.

Ars’ already-hard expression darkened.  The muscles on the side of his smooth face bulged as he set his jaw to threaten me some more.  “You will be made to comply.  I refuse to let the hope of this world walk around loose like he is a regular citizen.”

I pushed off the library ladder and stood with my arms crossed over my chest in a display of obstinance.  I gave Ars my best menacing glare and used my best menacing voice to menace him.  “I advise you not to fuck with me, Ars.  I will destroy any cage you put me in.  If somehow you get me in a cage I can’t destroy, I will sit there until the clock runs down and everyone is dead.  I already told you, my life doesn’t mean anything to me.  Don’t make me prove that to you.”

Ars scowled at me as I glared at him.  Shawn was having a quiet panic attack as I stood in direct opposition to his uncle.  I assumed Shawn knew what kind of force his uncle could bring to bear.  Shawn didn’t fully grasp my powers of obstinance.  The one thing that always made me shut down was someone telling me, ‘you gotta.’  It’s possible I have authority issues.

Ars broke first.  He lifted his hands and dropped them to the arms of his chair in a gesture of defeat.  “Mister Philips, I do not think that anyone could be vindictive enough to allow this world to end around them, but I am not willing to risk the possibility.  A man with nothing to lose is a dangerous one indeed.  My apologies, sir.” Ars’ face didn’t lose all its hardness, but most of it faded as he spoke.

I unfolded my arms and lowered myself to perch on the ladder again.  Shawn’s relief at the diffusing tension was almost tangible.  I felt the need to remind Ars of one simple fact.  “The elephant in the room is, I’ve been a bloody mess twice in three days and both times were in this building.  Statistically, this is the least safest place for me to be.”

Ars squeaked his chair a few times and gave me an explanation I didn’t expect.  “You need to understand, young man, your life is the most important life in this world at this moment.  The goal of the mission, is to get you on top of the Demon’s Citadel.  Your task lies there.  If getting you there costs the lives of every other member of the team, including that of my nephew, those lives will have been well-spent.”

Ars paused the point he’d been making to reassure Shawn after what I thought was a pretty brutal statement.  “Dear Shawn, please take my words in this context; if Mister Philips does not get to the top of the mountain, and the world ends, you will be dead.  If Mister Philips gets to the top and saves us, but you do not make it, the world survives.  The latter is a better outcome than the former for everyone except me.  A world without you would be meaningless to me.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, uncle,” Shawn said to the floor, “dying to save the world is better than dying for nothing.”

“Yes, nephew,” Ars agreed softly, “put simply, yes.”

“That’s enough!” I pounded my fist on the cafeteria cart and the impact clattered the silverware against the plates.  I ranted a little. “This city is like fucking Candyland compared to what I’m used to.  If I got hit by one of those toys you guys call cars, I think it would only piss me off.  Christ…I’m not an infant.  I’ll be just fine as long as you keep me away from those damn catalysts.  As far as Shawn goes, I won’t save a world he’s not in.  If I live to stand on that mountain, he’ll be there with me.”

Shawn’s surprise at my statement equaled my own.  I panicked that I’d said too much, and my mind took the opportunity to work overtime.  ‘Why did I say that?  It’s not like I’m in love.  I just feel protective of him…like his big brother.  No, that’s weird.  I can’t be the big brother he had sex with.  He’s like…someone I look out for.  He is my responsibility.  What’s that proverb?  The one about if you save someone, you’re responsible for them?  But he saved me too.  That makes us even.  Maybe…’

Ars’ staccato dragged me from my racing thoughts.  “Mister Philips, did you hear what I said, young man?  Are you listening, sir?”  Ars sounded like he was suddenly back to normal.  “I said, you certainly are not an infant, certainly not.  I leave it entirely in your hands.  Well, not entirely, no.  We will work together.  Yes, a team.  Our team and our mission…the mission to save us.  Not a good mission name, no, and an even worse acronym…a terrible acronym.”

He was just getting warmed up when my clothes arrived, this time a yellow version of the suit I’d been wearing.  I dressed, Ars said a verbose goodbye to us, and we left.