Flyover City! A Novel (with Superheroes)

26. Dream Sequence!

 "Alright, ha ha.Very funny. Now put that shit down, already, will you?"

Spliff and I are standing at Black and Read, this little record shop / book store out in the suburbs (which is pretty weird in and of itself, seeing as we haven't really hung out there since high school). Across a crate of records, Spliff holds out a battered "Sister Christian" 12-inch single. He actually waves it around above his head, where basically everyone can see.

So then this little prick, maybe 18 years old, says from over my shoulder, "Yeah, I've seen that fucking poseur around. Gimme a break."

...and suddenly, it occurs to me that I'm wearing what, at night, serves as my uniform.

But Spliff, he's not laughing. It's like he doesn't even notice the gallery of record shop snobs and community college intellectuals hovering all around us: "Seriously, though, Joel – Night Ranger or, say, Green Lama? -Who you got?"

The kid spouts something off in newsweekly music critic speak: "unapologetic grindcore"... "shakes the very foundations of the hell realms", etc. I couldn't really make it out, over the music in the store. Then I just sort of forgot about him altogether, because the room becomes bathed in this thick, green glow, growing brighter, brighter, until finally, it congeals into this humanoid figure, all wrapped up in a radiant, emerald cloak. Which is when things start to get weird...

The figure hovers towards me. I can't see a face, but there's a voice calling out from within the cloak, like it's being transmitted through a radio from some far away continent. It's not like it's threatening, necessarily, but I'm not really sure what to expect next. Every nerve in my body vibrates like a struck tuning fork, focusing my mind acutely on the stranger. I'm like an animal, ready to pounce. Confident. Natural.

I look at my arms, at my waterproof hoodie. It's shrunk, molding itself to my body, like it's part of my skin. Tight, but comfortable, like it's not really there at all. But it is... and it gives me power. Not like bulky body armor, but I don't really think of it as having been "mystical" in origin, either. I was thinking, like, maybe it was designed by ancient astronauts, or something. Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that I could actually feel the green radiating off the figure as it moves into my space. I lash out, executing this flawless, masterful right hook, to right where the figure's chin should be.

And I made contact, too. I absolutely, most definitely hit something, solid and jaw-like. But then, the cloak unravels itself from the shoulder, like a mummy's bandages, or the snakes atop Medusa's head, swooping down and binding my wrists together.

"Om Mami Padme Hum... Om Mani Padme Hum..."

The chant echoes inside my mind, radiating calm over my body, but I'm neither sedate nor lethargic - there's this innate strength, right at the center of the calm. The bands dissolve into my skin, trumping my need, or even desire, to resist.

"Darkstreak... Where Is Darkstreak?"

Visions of a handful of watering holes float through my mind before I realize that I really don't know... it's been weeks since I've last seen Kyle.

"You must find Kyle Tyler..."

From some other channel in my brain, a thought pours down into the empty vessel: He knows Kyle's secret identity! The glow, that same energy that was so reassuring just a moment before, it shifts with my perception of it. More thoughts flood my consciousness, and the binds re-materialize, tighter, around my limbs. Beyond my opponent, I see Spliff beside that queasy little punk, both of them watching me, critically. Spliff reaches into a pockets and produces a handful of bills.

And then - but of course! - I'm laying contorted in my bed, a twisted bed sheet, damp with sweat, snaking around my body. Alongside me, Gwen mumbles a question; just a reflex. She pecks at the air and is fast asleep again before I can even tell her I'm okay.

I logged onto the Internet about a half hour ago, to search Google News for any small bit of info pertaining to the Green Llama.

Nothing.

Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have said anything to Spliff - but I was stuck. He caught me with the mysterious woman, witnessed her little display of power. If I had left it to his imagination, he only would have come up with something that much worse. Instead, he knows the truth. Of course, he totally freaked out. I told him that it was no big deal, that I'm really just an informant, and just barely that. I may never hear anything from the Agency again. He promised he wouldn't say anything to Kyle (which sort of surprised me, until he mentioned that Kyle got pissed at him the other night for pestering him about his "active duty" days). I was relieved, but I'm more concerned about Gwen, if I'm being completely honest. I'm not sure why, but I even told Spliff about my "premonition". He said my future self "sounds like kind of a dick."

No, really, don't hold back.

Hopefully, my typing is quiet enough that she stays asleep. In the other room, but here, her presence is comforting. It's almost enough to convince me that my call from "future me" was just my imagination. A mirage, like my visit from the Lama. But all that changes if she finds me sitting here, awake, at three in the morning; throwing me instantly back into a barrage of questions. I managed to convince her that she should wait until her roommate finds somebody new to take her place, that it'll give me a chance to get the place ready. She's giving me the benefit of the doubt, but I know the questions are lingering there, just beneath the surface.

Interestingly enough, I didn't need to worry about Spliff. He's barely said a word to me since I told him. Like Morrissey says, "We Hate it When Our Friends Become Successful". Or even so much as take a crack at it, I suppose.

___________________________

Holy. Shit.

From the Associated Press, 10 minutes ago...

Controversial Scientist Hugh Macguffin found dead in Laboratory

ALBUQUERQUE, NEW MEXICO - Local authorities have confirmed that a body found late last night in a private rural laboratory is that of noted scientist Dr. Hugh Macguffin. 

Macguffin, the controversial author of the hotly contested 1960 bookFoundations of Malphysics, has used the laboratory as his primary residence for the last twelve years. Nearby landowners, who state they've rarely seen the reclusive scientist, called police to report a disturbance from the location. 

"For ten minutes, all you could hear was these loud, terrified screams," said one neighbor, who wished to remain anonymous.

The case remains open, and the exact cause of death is yet to be determined. Early reports suggest that a wild animal may have found it's way into the residence.

The coroner's office is "unsure" of the victim's age. He has no known family.
_____

Jesus. What a way to go. And just what kind of "wild animals" do they have in New Mexico, anyway?

Quarter to four. Why do I have the feeling my day's not going to get any less strange?