by Taylor Kole
A maw started with a tear on the Jinni’s face, ripping open beyond physical capacity, displaying rows of shark teeth that went back many feet. Its mouth inched closer, threatening to consume Corey's upper body in one bite.
If the jaws clamped over him, he would feel his flesh burst and split. He'd sense his arteries sever, hear his bones crunch, and be bitten in half.
Gathering all of his lucid talent, he surged away from dream land.
He twitched awake in the normal world. Sweat coated his body. Breathing in short desperate gasps, he brought his hand to his sternum and pulled hairs to make sure he was awake, and away from that evil.
Sunlight penetrated his bedroom through seams and closed blinds. Marci sat in a chair before the dresser mirror, a hot curling iron forming strands of her dark hair. She watched him in the reflection.
"Bad dream?"
The smell of her perfume calmed his fright, but not enough to where he could speak.
Standing, he padded to the kitchen.
Twisting open the orange juice, he guzzled the cool liquid, looked out the glass slider doors, and appreciated the sun’s presence.
He didn’t need Marci to interpret a demon wanting to eat him, nor Walt and his two minions joining in the attack.
He faced real danger, possibly from two different worlds.
TWENTY
Corey stood on the side of his driveway and placed his arm around Marci's shoulder. The evening sun at their backs cast long shadows over Lisa's Chrysler Fiat.
“Keep your eyes on the road. No texting,” Marci said to Lisa through her open driver's side window. “Maybe consider turning the phone off while you drive.”
“What if you need to call?” Lisa asked “I'm a super safe driver, you know that. I even keep my hands at ten and two.” She released and clamped her fingers around the wheel in emphasis.
“Can we go now?” Janey pleaded from the back seat, while kicking her feet in the air. “Simon is probably starving to death.”
Simon and Shuster, Lisa's two pet Oscars, had been Janey's recent obsession. She'd been talking about feeding the fish since she opened her eyes that morning.
“It's just,” Marci added, “your car is really small. Promise me you'll be extra careful.”
“I'll drive ten under the speed limit,” Lisa said. “And open my doors at railroad crossings.”
“Say good-bye, dear,” Corey said. “Or it will be pitch black by the time they leave.” He waved into the backseat at Janey.
“Love you,” Marci said as Janey waved back. Lisa shifted the car into reverse and backed out.
Feeling Marci's body leaning toward the car, Corey slightly increased his grip on her shoulder. “She'll be fine. Lisa’s responsible; you've said as much.”
“Yes, but this is the first time our little girl will be away from both us and her bed for a night.”
Lisa honked twice in the street and pulled away. Janey's small hand continued to wave.
“You see how happy she is,” Corey said.
“Okay, let's go inside before I jump in the Jetta and follow them to Lisa's.”
It was nice to see Marci, who could so often come across as cold and logical to a fault, now act with such care and concern over their daughter. She loved Janey more than she loved anyone, no doubt it.. He looked down his road, beyond the departing Fiat.
A dark sedan with tinted windows waited at the adjoining corner. Nothing unusual about the car or the limo tint. Many people chose to black-out their windows for protection against the raging desert sun. However, the car had three-hundred feet before the Fiat would impede its path, yet it continued to idle at the T-intersection as if waiting.
Marci went rigid as Lisa's car passed. The sedan eased behind it.
Marci looked at Corey, and he knew exactly what she was thinking.
To lessen the fright on her face, he said, “It's just a car with tinted windows.” He didn't need her to say but why did it wait so long to pull out for him to add, “Maybe he was texting.”
She inspected him, as if considering his words and then spoke in a casual tone. “Or she was rummaging through her purse.”
As Lisa's Fiat turned right, the sedan activated its blinker, and followed.
Corey wanted to remind them both they were simply on edge, but were they? Walt was powerful, he was desperate, and he was possibly deranged. Was the idea of him wanting to harm Janey really so far-fetched? He glanced at Marci.
“I'm calling her,” Marci patted her pockets.
Knowing the phone was in the house, Corey double-timed it toward the door, intending to retrieve it for her, but Marci ran by him. He wished she would have kept watch outside.
“Lisa, hi, it's Marci. No, you didn't forget anything. Is there a dark blue four-door car following you?”
Corey fought his urge to correct her. He was pretty sure the sedan had been black.
“Are you sure, look way behind you; a full limo-tint.” A pause while Lisa spoke, “Okay, but if you see a car like that, you call me.” Another break. “No, it's probably nothing. Drive safe.” She disconnected.
Tossing the phone on the couch, she stared at it a beat before laughing. “We're like the parents in that commercial. You know, with the first baby they freak out over everything. By baby number two, they're letting their child play with matches in a sandbox of gunpowder.”
He smirked, but try as he might, he couldn’t manage a full, convincing laugh.
Settling onto the couch, he read from his newsfeed. Scientists promise a cure for AIDS within the year. Good things were still happening in the world, at least.
The doorbell rang.
Marci looked at the door, furrowed her brow, and looked back to him. He remembered Justin's scheduled Dream Ride and pointed at the time.
Marci grinned, and bound to the door. Corey waited to hear the same sort of enthusiasm she presented every client with, but there was only silence.
Justin hadn’t rang the doorbell. If he had, he and Marci would be talking by now. He’d be complimenting her, she’d be inviting him in. Corey rose, but stayed where he was. Somebody else is at the door.
“Good evening, Mr. Padesky,” Kendra Houghton said as she looked past Marci. She held an 8×11 manila envelope against her chest. She wore black stretch pants, black hiking boots, and a snug black long-sleeve shirt made of the durable fabric often used in intensive training.
“We have three web pages with emails, five Facebook accounts, a cellular phone, and a house phone,” Marci said. “What compelled you to forego all of that and drop by our home unannounced?”
“I understand showing up close to dusk comes in poor taste, and I apologize.” She lifted the packet. “I was tasked with delivering this earlier today, but our flight was delayed. Figuring anytime is a good time for excellent news, here I am.”
"You have good news for us?" Marci asked as she pulled the door open farther, giving Corey a better view.
The only good news he envisioned was Kendra saying Walt had experienced an exorcism, was now an ardent Jehovah's Witness, and would never contact them again.
"This here," Kendra lifted the envelope. "Is the same deal Mr. Zimbardo offered you on your Chicago visit."
"We’re still working out the details of training before we respond," Marci said.
"No, we're not," Corey said sharply. The jitters from Janey leaving, the fright from the trailing sedan, and now this presumptuous woman knocking on their door? Enough was enough. "We are unable to accept Walt's deal. I'm sorry, but that's the end of it."
Marci studied him a moment, crossed her arms, and then returned her attention to Kendra. "It appears we have decided to pass."
Kendra parted a wicked, cat-ate-the-canary grin, and offered the packet. "Fair warning, you're going to want to sign this."
Shame from his rudeness already lapped at Corey's anger. Rather than apologize, he swallowed the rising lump in his throat.
Before Marci responded, Kendra added, "Sign it by t
omorrow night. That's the last time we can start this empire as friends. When the calendar strikes Thursday, you become combatants."
"Are you threatening us?" Marci dropped her arms.
Corey braced. He had seen his wife close to pushing a woman before. The University of California is the largest employer in the state with over two-hundred thousand employees, so they protested whatever the University told them to. Soon, it became clear they were protesting free speech, and when Marci argued that was antithetical to freedom, an argument ensued. Corey had to pull her away to stop them from bumping chests.
"I'm only conveying our sincere hope that you partner with us in a civilized fashion. Please look this over and sign the document by Thursday. It will help you avoid experiencing the hostilities provided by the American Judicial system." She extended the packet.
Marci smacked it away hard enough to yank the older woman's arms down and pull her off-balance.
A vehicle slowed in front of the house. Justin's F-150 pick-up stopped in the street.
"I'll leave this in your mailbox," Kendra said. After a glance at the truck, she added, "You two have a wonderful evening with Mr. Justin Collins."
“What did you say?” Marci said. “How do you know his name?”
Justin’s attention stayed on the part of their driveway hidden from view by the attached garage as he approached.
"Hello," Justin said as he passed Kendra.
She ignored him, continued to the mailbox, and forced the manila packet inside.
"Is everything okay?" Justin asked as he reached the couple.
Corey heard the car engine start before the door opened and slammed. "It's nothing. Come in."
The hidden car pulled onto the street.
"That witch," Marci said as she stormed three paces toward the vehicle.
The same dark blue sedan that had trailed Lisa backed out. With the tinted window halfway down, Cooper's red hair was easy to see. He sealed the window as the car accelerated away.
"Holy ghost," Justin said as Marci returned. "What was all that about?"
"Turf wars," Marci said, as she charged inside.
When Justin looked to Corey, he shrugged. Turf wars summed it up. Entering the home, he found Marci and said, "Just forget about her."
"Already have." Marci smiled at Justin. "Welcome to our normally peaceful home."
Justin frowned and bobbed his head.
Corey waved off his own concern. His guts bubbled, but a high existed. He had been assertive, set boundaries, and clearly stated they were not interested in working with Walt. Kendra had threatened, and lord knew how badly this would come back to bite them, but at least the games had ended.
"Have a seat," Marci motioned toward the couch. She had arranged two kitchen chairs opposite the cleared coffee table.
"So, what brings you here tonight?" Marci asked.
"I'd like to dream something divine, something that will increase my faith in God and the purpose of life so I can convert non-believers with a salesman's most effective tool: honesty."
"Well," Marci said. "You converted Corey into reading your Bible."
"Really?" Justin leaned back and beamed at Corey.
Corey’s temperature rose. "It can be powerful reading.”
“Sometimes,” Justin said with a grin.
“I'm surprised you want to strengthen your faith,” Corey said. “You striving to walk on water?"
"Oh, please. I'm far from Christ-like, and every so often, doubt creeps in."
"Janey said each time a person recovers their faith after a spell of doubt, they're praising God."
Justin and Marci replied in unison. "She said that?"
“Something to that effect,” Corey said.
Justin recovered first and added, "That is one precocious little lady."
Marci squared her shoulders to Justin and cleared her throat. "Do you understand tonight's process?"
"Sure do. You guys give me a whiff of knock-out juice, I go out for the count and have the best dream of my life." Patting the cushion next to him, Justin asked, "Are we going to do it right here, on the couch?"
"No, it's a little confined for what we do," Marci said.
"Right," Justin said. "The speakers and lights and such."
“Yes.”
"We have a guest blanket draped over our bed," Marci said as she stood. "if you'll take off your shoes, we'll show you where the dream magic happens."
The dream started with Corey on a twenty-foot cliff. Marci was lower than him and dressed in a blackjack dealer’s outfit with a table in front of her.
When the glimmering scenery around Justin clarified, he stood alone on the normally hyper-active Las Vegas Strip.
Justin paced in an oval, staring up at the whirling lights and diverse architecture.
Corey sensed Justin's astonishment at having passed this block a thousand times since moving out west and never noticing the intricacy.
A young man materialized out of the night and floated toward Justin. His clarity increased with each step. The young man rode a hoverboard. He was bi-racial, thin with a small afro, and in his early twenties. He wore skinny jeans, oversized glasses, and a red T-shirt with white lettering that read, HUG ME. With a bend of his foot, he stopped twenty feet from Justin and lifted his head in a greeting.
Justin raised his hand from his side. A quarter of the way up, time slowed to a crawl around Justin. The young man smiled.
A golden spark ignited in the young man's chest—similar to what Corey pictured would turn red before a Jinni launched. Rather than become all consuming, the glow drifted out of the young man and stopped two feet from him. The golden orb casted a glow in all directions. It then headed for Justin. With him frozen and looking scared, it blended into Justin’s chest.
An awareness of everything in the boy's soul spread through Justin, and by extension, Corey and Marci. The young man had hopes of completing veterinarian school. He wanted to head a shelter in a metropolitan city where he'd educate pet owners on the benefits of neutering, lessening America's two-point-seven million annual euthanizations.
Next came the young man's fears, loves, insecurities, favorite colors, and first kiss. In mere seconds, he went from a stranger polarizing Justin to a brother bonded through every laugh and tear the young man had ever spilled.
When the things—most of which were trivial and common—that the young man considered shameful rolled over Justin, he formed a sympathy and love so deep and pure it transcended comprehension.
Corey's entire essence quivered.
Finished with experiencing most of the young man's life actions and the reasonings behind them, the golden glow exited Justin and zipped back into the young man. Justin was still frozen, but also dumbfounded by unfiltered empathy.
The young man grinned and slowly lost substance until he was gone. A beat passed before an older Hispanic woman with graying hair, an overbite, and stacked layers of flab pressing against her nightgown replaced the area where the young man had been. She glanced around as if looking for someone other than Justin. When their eyes locked, the golden orb exited her and entered Justin. The process went faster this time, surging euphoria into all present.
She swapped with a middle-aged kayaker, a war-vet amputee, a prostitute, a stay-at-home father. Soon, a mass of people flicked passed at a blindingly fast rate. Once imbued with their emotional life histories, from the inside out, Justin loved them all.
The human exhibit ended with a geriatric Cuban man. Age had hunched his back and placed dark spots across his face and arms. He wore a slanted fedora and the end of a harmonica protruded from the front pocket of his collared shirt. After sharing a life of accomplishments, failures, kind (and selfish) acts and regrets, he pinched the brim of his hat and froze.
Seconds later, and instead of disappearing like all the others, the elderly man's posture adjusted. The age lines in his face and neck receded. Youth overtook him. He reverted to sixty years old, forty, twenty, a handsome teen, a
spry young boy, a chubby toddler, a gleeful baby, sleeping infant, shrinking embryo, which as it reached the size of a green bean, was only a corona of gold. It regressed further until a lone golden dust-mote danced in the air, brighter than possible, and pulsed before Justin.
The dream jumped, bringing them to a crowded woodland. The golden dust mote hovered at chest level to Justin. It moved back six feet, drifted down to a dead leaf, and spread throughout the leaf. The regression from death to life started new until a healthy leaf fluttered upward and attached to a tree, which over time dwindled to a sapling.
As it neared the ground, and right before it dipped under the soil, the gold spark, which had remained faintly visible to Corey through it all, detached and drifted off in a breeze. It joined with the decaying remains of a squirrel. The squirrel reanimated from dead to a vigorous mammal. It then provided life for a bush, then a bird of prey, another of scavenging. In a Tyrannosaurus Rex it knew pride and ego. In the body of an amphibian, before any creature had walked planet Earth, it learned how to ride the water’s currents, migrate by temperature, and frolic in the presence of other life forms—all of which possessed their own stunted awareness.
The golden spark bubbled as molten lava, remained a part of the boulders that formed the planet. It continued reversing time until it floated alone in the young cosmos.
After what could be eons alone, another ember arrived in the far distance. As our golden mote neared it, more were visible in the distance, then more. Soon, the ember Corey followed joined an infinite field of golden orbs retreating to some single source. The scene looked like an explosion playing in reverse. The ember combined with an uncountable number of other sources, merging and packing themselves together, growing until they formed a basketball-size orb. Once smooth, settled, and alone in the cosmos, the large golden ball turned silver in color. It was infinitely dense, powerful, and aware beyond measure.
Corey’s specific sub atomic particle vibrated somewhere among that silver expanse of infinite peers. He knew that every drop of energy that made the universe had emanated from that silver orb. Eagerness radiated from all of the particles. Joy. Love. Oneness. A sense of adventure, a sense that they would soon embark on the unknown journey of creating the universe, and then the dream jumped.