Route 66

31 Requiem

How swiftly time passes. In my teens, the year 2019 was the stuff of science fiction where flying cars ruled the skies.

Paul feverishly focused on his antidotes to combat Randolph's evolving genocidal fantasies. It was hard to believe that after all these years he hadn't been apprehended. Sometimes you'd get a snippet of information about his whereabouts but nothing concrete.

Periodically, news came out regarding the death of several villagers in remote parts of the world. Their mummified corpses were found scattered throughout dwellings close to the ocean's edge. The common thread to all of these macabre deaths was that none of the victims had access to a supply of Paul's antidote.

Paul himself appeared more anxious than usual. He told me that the latest version of his serum wasn't working. Corpses were found that didn't have any exposure to contaminated water at all. He worked sleepless nights to find a solution. Was Randolph using a different carrier? This new threat appeared to be limited mainly to sparsely populated communities in Africa...at least for now.

Paul ventured out less and less. He only left out of necessity which included travel to and from his sophisticated government lab as he racked his brain in an effort to produce an elusive antidote to Randolph's newest murderous creation.

For the first time in forty years, I didn't try to hide who I was through cosmetics, hair alterations or colored lenses. My hair retained its natural chestnut brown and flowed down to mid-back. I was sick of pretending.

One day Paul took me by surprise with a suggestion that we attend a Halloween performance of the Requiem in D Minor by Mozart, in Los Angeles.

"It's a special showing where they encourage the audience to wear costumes," he said.

"Any specific theme?" I asked.

"The performers themselves will be dressed in period clothing from the time of Mozart but the audience can wear anything they please."

I jumped at the opportunity to do something non-routine, quickly agreed, and said, "That sounds epic! Who are you going as?"

"Well...I was thinking about maybe dressing up as the wizard from The Wizard of Oz," he said mischievously.

I knew exactly what he was thinking and responded, "Oh, really? I guess I better match that, huh?"

"I think that would be best, Judy," he said with a wink.

Finding the get up wasn't hard. There were several online sites where you could order a costume that mirrored every detail of Dorothy's outfit and it arrived within a couple days. Everything was there from the white puff sleeve blouse, blue gingham pinafore, and ruby slippers. They even included ankle high socks and blue hair ribbons.

The highly anticipated day of the quirky Halloween performance arrived in a flash, and I couldn't help but marvel at my reflection in the full-length mirror; Dorothy Gale from the film staring back at me.

Paul pulled off the wizard look pretty good too aside from the fact that his face was longer, body lankier, and he wore glasses. Everything else matched from the dark green velvet jacket, dark ascot, and mossy green vest.

Paul's current bodyguard was a CIA operative, Brian Ciatti. In keeping with The Wizard of Oz theme, Brian's costume was that of the doorman to the Emerald City. I couldn't help but burst out laughing when the usually clean shaven Brian emerged with a handlebar mustache.

The performance was scheduled for seven o'clock and I could scarcely conceal my excitement as we headed out for the two hour trip to Los Angeles. Brian scanned the car with a sensor made specifically for detecting explosives as he always did before we settled in.

In my classical musical training I'd encountered the Requiem Mass and it gripped my soul in a somber kind of way. I knew this live performance would be a night to remember.

When we finally made it to the hall I gasped in amazement. I'd been to many costume parties but none with the sheer numbers displayed here. They dressed up as cowboys and superheroes. There were those from period eras such as the Victorian, Medieval, Renaissance, and Greek. There were women who had almost every inch of their body covered like the southern belles, and those who wore hardly anything at all like the fierce amazonian warriors.

As we proceeded to our exclusive box seats, everyone stared at me and murmured. They said things like, "Is that Judy Garland come back to life?" and "The resemblance is almost eerie."

All of a sudden, a little wide eyed blonde girl, dressed as a pixie, ran right up to me and yelled, "Mommy! Mommy! Look! It's Dorothy!!"

I glanced at Paul and giggled realizing that this sweet little girl had probably just seen the movie and hadn't the slightest idea that it had been over seventy years since its first release.

Her mom, dressed as a fairy tale queen, came huffing and puffing right behind her and exclaimed, "Your granddaughter looks just like her. It's unbelievable!"

The little girl squinted at Paul suspiciously and said, "You're not the wizard. The wizard doesn't wear glasses."

"What's your name, sweetie?" I asked.

"My name is Megan. Can I try your ruby slippers? Please, Please, Please?!"

"Of course you can, honey."

I giggled as she slipped them onto her tiny feet. Then she shut her eyes tight, scrunched up her freckled face, and repeated over and over again, "There's no place like home."

Then she clicked the heels together several times in confusion and said, "They don't work."

I knelt down right beside her and said. "Of course they won't work here, sweetie, because you're already home with your family who loves you very much."

As I spoke, thoughts of my life with Blake and the children came rushing back to me as a tear ran down my cheek. The girl threw her arms around my neck and said, "Don't cry, Dorothy. You made it home too, remember?"

"Come on Megan, I think Dorothy needs some space," Mom said.

The little girl glanced back and waved as they moved to their seats.

"Bye, sweetheart," I said, trying my very best to smile.

"Are you alright?" Paul said with concern.

"Did you see how big her eyes got? She reminds me so much of Beth when she was that age."

Paul whispered, "Not too loud now, we don't want Brian overhearing ."

We took our balcony seats and gazed over the sea of costumes below us. The conductor came out dressed in a powdered wig and a stark white foundation covered his face completely.

From the moment he raised the baton, Paul and I were transfixed on the beauty and power of the performance. Brian chose to stand behind us looking for the slightest hint of any trouble. After the first movement there was well deserved applause as Paul excused himself to use the restroom.

Brian accompanied him as I watched them descend down a set of stairs. At that moment, the Dies Irae began, one of my favorites movements. The thunderous boom of voices and instruments filled the hall so that one would be hard pressed to hear someone speaking, even if they were sitting right next to you.

I glanced back over my shoulder and did a double take, gasping. A security guard with a holstered pistol was blocking the stairs with an 'Out Of Order' sign. The look on his face was all business as he motioned to another guard who quickly ventured down.

I jumped out of my seat and approached. There wasn't another soul in sight.