“Where are we going?” Rick asked, not understanding why he so readily agreed to stuff his shorts and shirts into the only duffel bag he could find. “I only ask ‘cause I don’t have anything for cold weather.”
Mel seemed momentarily distracted by the small black device on his wrist, the one that looked like an over grown watch. They hadn’t even left the apartment yet. “Um, Roger is in Guam. We have to go to Guam.” He pressed a few more small buttons and little lights seemed to dance in response.
“Guam! That’s like halfway round the world! That’ll cost a lot of money.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mel looked up smiling, “It’s being taken care of. Everything will be ready by the time we get to the airport. Besides,” he chuckled, patting Rick’s duffel bag, “look on the bright side. It is tropical.”
“I just hope there’s something good to eat there.” Rick pushed a few socks into the already bulging bag, never straying far from his first great passion, eating. Not even reality travelers and space-time continuum thingies could dislodge his love of food.
“As a matter of fact, there is. There’s a great barbecue place there called Pete’s Barbecue. It’s down by the beach. You’ll love it. In fact, we have to see Pete first before Roger.” Mel looked up.
“How did Roger get in Guam anyway?” Rick asked absentmindedly as he continued to stuff things into his duffel bag.
“Um, that’s another long story. I’ll have to explain that one along the way. It involves the US Navy, a load of spoiled milk and some really big spiders.” Mel spoke quickly, the sugar in his system kicking into overdrive.
Rick finally finished stuffing the bag in his hand and pulled it together so he could zip it up. “This sounds wonderful. Can’t wait to hear this one.”
“I got us first class tickets, too. I only fly first class; that is WHEN I fly. Not a lot of need for me to fly any more.” Mel said, tapping the black box on his wrist.
They closed the door, and Rick locked it with an ominous click, not sure if he would ever see the place again. He was going out into the world with a sugared-up lunatic he hadn’t seen or heard from in twenty-six years, and he had no clear way of knowing what might happen next. In just a little over twenty-four hours he had gone from being a perfectly ordinary taxi driver with childhood issues to having to face those very same childhood issues head on all will becoming a transporter for people falling out of reality. His missing friend wasn’t dead after all. He lost his watch, and now he was on his way to an island way out in the Pacific that he had only barely heard of before. Despite all of this, he could, at least, take comfort in one small constant. He still had his red Crown Victoria to drive to the airport.
CHAPTER THREE
An Insanity Syndrome
Hello. My name is Roger Parcel, not like ‘parcel post’, but like Par-cell. And I’m crazy, or so they say. But, I wasn’t always that way. Instead of explaining all of that and how I got crazy, I thought I would just throw in these nifty little snippets from my diary I kept while I was at the sanitarium. Please enjoy. I’ll see you again in chapter four.
Entry One, 14 Mar 2010:
I’ve always hated the word crazy. Crazy is a very uneducated way of saying something is not right with someone’s behavior. I don’t think people are crazy. I think they’re just out of sync with reality. By that definition, I’m not crazy. I know this because I have some very special friends that have told me so. Now, some might insist that this isn’t true. Some might say that I have imagined that. Now, these are the people I think might be out of sync with reality. They simply don’t understand how things really work. But, I do. I have for a very long time. I think that may be why I feel the way I do. There has to be a connection there. Because I feel there is. Sometimes I also feel like tree moss, but that’s usually only on Tuesdays.
There’s a danger in getting lost in things like that. I didn’t want to start this diary to ramble on about these little distractions. I wanted to set the record straight about some things before I left. I am leaving soon. I was told that, too. So I have been preparing for my get out of jail day. Well, not jail, but it might as well be. I live in the loony bin. This is my home. I’m a certified nut case that being the word of Doctor Marples. My name is Roger. I am Roger, the certified nut case. But, I wasn’t always like this. And even now, I have some days that are better than others. Anyway, I am leaving, and I wanted to clear the air about some things I supposedly did and some things that I was blamed for, and I didn’t do. We lost South America once. That wasn’t my fault. It showed back up later on anyway. Let’s get started, shall we?
I have been in the Talafofo, Mother of Mercy Sanitarium for seven years now. Being here isn’t all that bad if you don’t mind tapioca and lots of medication, and the lunatics that live here. Boy, let me tell you there’s some real winners in here. You would not believe what I have to put up with. There’s the fun kind who think they’re Abraham Lincoln, and there’re some that just stare off into space and don’t speak, and then there’s some that talk all the time and babble, babble, babble. I just mind my own business and stay away from them. They’re harmless enough, but I stay clear. Now the ones that frighten me are the hall walkers. They are always moving, mouths open, spit running down their chins and a mad look in their eyes. I stay way clear of those. I think they’re trying to take me to a dark place, and I don’t like dark places.
I don’t belong in here with all these cartoon characters. Just because I had a small incident a few years back, the judge seemed to think I was ready for “some treatment.” Dr. Marples agrees with me. She thinks I’m ok. I’m a type of inspector for reality. You may not have any idea what that means. That’s ok, neither do I. They call me a Seer, but what I do is inspect. I look for cracks. Things get cracked, like birds flying upside down, day turning instantly to night, a woman from 18th century colonial America falling out of her time, and cars changing color. I see these things happening. I watch for them. I can see them in my head, but I see them all at once. Sometimes it gets very hard to sort it all out. But, I don’t belong here. I do like the tapioca, though. And the color blue.
Entry Two, 15 Mar 2010
I got to see the doc today. But she wasn’t in a very good mood. She seemed irritated by something, and she wouldn’t tell me what it was. I did my best to listen to her. I tried to act nice, but I think I just made her even madder when I took out a nail file and ripped up my seat. She didn’t take that well at all. “You see,” she said, “this is why we can’t get anywhere, you keep doing things like this!” Boy was she seeing red. But, it wasn’t my fault. I was only doing what I was told. Rufus told me to do something to freak her out, like tear up my seat. So I did. Maybe today isn’t such a good day to be writing this stuff down. I think I may lie down for a while.
Entry Three, 16 Mar2010
I feel a little better today. The bush outside my window is blooming red and white blooms. It’s a pretty little flower, but I have no idea what it’s called. The sun is out; it’s not raining. Sometimes they let me go outside. I like the tropical breezes. Guam is a very pretty place. I wish I could leave and go see some of my favorite places. I used to love to go with my son down to Haputo beach. Better not think about that now. Every time I start thinking about my kids I get really sad. It’s been so long since I saw them last. But, that will change soon. Rufus reminded me today that get out day is just around the corner. It’s coming soon. Let me tell you a little about Rufus.
Rufus is my pet cockroach. Rufus comes into my room at night and talks to me. He is my only friend. And he drives a tiny little silver Maserati. Now, I know what you might be thinking: a pet cockroach that talks and drives an Italian sports car? How can a cockroach be somebody’s pet? Well, he came out of my wall about seven years ago and told me that he would be my friend. I trust Rufus. He’s never steered me wrong. Anyway, Rufus keeps me company and helps me sort things out. A couple of days ago things started getting fuzzy for me. I knew something was wrong. Us
ually, when things get fuzzy, and I start seeing things in my head, I usually get a visit from one of the Managers. They’re lovely people, but not a great sense of humor. They also bring me magazines. But, when they do show up it’s to find out what things I’ve been seeing. That’s where Rufus helps out. He lets me run through all these images and then he helps me put it all together so I can tell the Managers. They usually leave happy, and I get magazines. I like to read.
Things started happening a few days ago. It was during breakfast. I like eggs and bacon for breakfast. One egg, over easy and lots of bacon, six pieces, is my favorite. I think I could just eat bacon, but that probably wouldn’t be very healthy. I got the first image when I sat down. It was a dark place, but not a bad one. It was dark because it was night. And it was something far away. I was glad it wasn’t one of those really bad ones. Every time I have a really bad image, it’s about reality tearing hard. That sometimes causes things that can’t be fixed. Then it’s not just People that go missing. It could be planes, ships, houses. The folks from National Geographic should come do a special on me. Ha! Bermuda Triangle, what rubbish! Holes open up and things fall into them. I hope the Fixers aren’t too busy. Always fixing this and fixing that. Like little ants. Fixer ants.
Then a couple of days later I got several more images, lights, always green lights, and a really big guy sitting alone in a white car, sound asleep. I like to sleep. I sleep a lot after they give me my meds.
Entry Four, 17 Mar 2010
Another day in good ole room number 168. I haven’t had any issues today but Ivan, the guy who mops the floor, told me that he thought he overheard that the Managers were coming for a visit. That would be good because I’m out of magazines, and I’ve read this last one like twelve times now. Have you ever noticed how music can remind you of colors? Music can make you see in colors, but that may not be so good. People might think you were insane. I hear the music playing outside and it sounds like Garth Brooks, or maybe it’s Dwight Yoakum. Country music always makes me see blue for some reason. Not sure why.
Anyway, when lunch came around I noticed a lot more of the wild-eyed people than I normally see. They frighten me. Rufus tells me not to pay attention to them, but they look mean, angry like they could rip you apart. Lunch was good, though.
I wish I could go outside. The sun is shining so bright, and the palm trees are blowing in the breeze. I wonder where Louise is. I wonder where my kids are. They tell me I never had a family. But, I can remember her face well. I wonder how big the kids are now?
Sometimes, if I think real hard, I can remember that day. It was the day that got me thrown in here. Dr. Marples says if I could remember all of it I might feel better. So far no such luck. I can remember it was in 02 or 03. I was still in the Navy. Yes, I can remember being in the Navy. I was stationed at the Naval Hospital on that big hill overlooking the Agana Beach. But, then things get not so clear. I remember 8 o’clock in the morning and sour milk. Why sour milk? The managers told me it wasn’t unusual, the soured milk. Then the giant spiders came out of the jungle. I think the smell, yes the smell of the milk. And the smell of the color. What color? It was red. Yes! Red. Then the spiders started attacking.
I have a headache. I’m going to watch the window.
Entry Five, 18 Mar 2010
Dr. Marples came to see me in my room today, which is strange because I usually go to her office. Maybe she’s still mad about the seat cushion. She asked me some questions about lights and if I had been talking to anyone about the work I used to do in the Navy. I had no clue what she was talking about. I told her the only person I talk to is Rufus, and he doesn’t speak to anyone else. That’s not true, though. I talk to the guy in 178 who thinks he’s Abraham Lincoln. He’s funny to talk to. He reminds me a lot of the real Lincoln. I know, I’ve seen him in several of my visions.
Last night Rufus wrecked his tiny car against my bed post. He was really mad. He screamed for 10 straight minutes and then called a cab to pick him up. I don’t think I’ll see him tonight. I wish he would come get his wrecked car, though.
The visions have been increasing. I’m sure the Managers will be here soon. I’ll need Rufus then. I hope he doesn’t let me down. He helps me straighten it out. I don’t feel very good about these visions. They’re starting to remind me of that day I smelled the ruined milk. I can remember all that bad milk. I worked for the Company then. Well, I still work for the Company, but back then I was high level, not, you know, stark raving mad. I worked for the Navy too. I was enlisted, and I worked for the Company. But, no one knew I worked for the Company. Not even my wife. I couldn’t tell her. Then that day came when reality hemorrhaged, and all that milk came out of the sky. It rained sour milk for almost an hour. It was the smell that came first, though. I smelled it coming, and the smell was like spoiled milk and the color red. My head hurt so bad. The pain was almost unbearable. It was too much. NO! I don’t want to think about it anymore. I have to concentrate on the new visions. They won’t be bad. They will not be bad.
Rufus always cheers me up when he plays his harmonica. I wonder how in the world he gets his tiny little claws to make all those noises? He’s really good at it. I wonder if you could have a little cockroach band, a sort of blues band that could play island music. Maybe they could do Elvis tunes. I’m fond of Elvis.
The last time the Managers came, I was saw bad images that started with colors. It always starts with colors. Colors are always involved. I started seeing pink, then orange. It turned out to be not so bad, though. There were a few small problems. The South ended up winning the Civil War. That had to be fixed, and we lost South America, AGAIN. But, only momentarily. It turned up again a few days later just like new. It took a lot of Fixers to get that one back on track. It was all fun in the end. We laughed for a while. Of course, Lincoln was happy. But, then he was killed. Can’t do anything about that, though. That was a true point in reality. Still, it was a shame. I liked Lincoln. He was the only person I ever met who was as crazy as I am.
Reality fractured then split. It’s bad when reality splits. It can get really bad even it isn’t caught quick enough. What if I’m not catching what I need to, and this gets worse? I need to talk to someone. I hope Rufus shows up soon.
Entry Six, 19 Mar 2010
I’m excited. Rufus came back last night. We talked for a long time. I think his insurance is going to cover his accident. He’s still not happy about having to bum rides from friends. But, he should have his wheels back before it’s time for us to leave. I know the Managers told me I couldn’t leave. I know they said I had to stay put. But, I feel like it’s time for me to go.
The Managers picked me when I was still stationed at Bethesda. They came by one day and told my OIC to have me meet them in a corner office in the basement, where the old morgue used to be. It was the same morgue they brought Kennedy to in ‘63, but many years later they moved the morgue and built a mess hall down there instead. I met them in an old closet where they stored big cans of vegetables. They offered me a job as a Seer. It seems they had been watching me for some time and had found that I had some aptitude for reality. I remember them telling me that a lot of candidates didn’t last very long. They warned me about a condition called Reality-Psychosis. It was an unpredictable condition brought about by genetic factors and too much exposure to too many lines of reality. It could break a person’s sanity. They didn’t know what sanity was. If they would stick around a little longer this time, I could sure show them some insane people. They told me it only happened in rare cases, and most of the new safe guards they had put in place would prevent any problems. I didn’t listen to the warnings, though. I was young and felt like I was ten feet tall and bullet proof. Besides, how bad could it be?
I bet they didn’t see all that milk coming did they? Or the spiders? Every time I remember the spiders I shiver. I was never particularly afraid of spiders before. But, after the Arachnid War, I can’t look at one anymore, even the smallest one. The ones that came ou
t of the hole were big, and rusty brown in color….all legs and hair. And I bet having a second moon made them blink a bit. That was sure funny. Two moons bumping along in the sky like giant pool balls.
I wish Guam weren’t the nexus for all reality. Who would have thought that all reality flows through this tiny island? All I know is I would love to have some barbecue from Pete’s. He came to see me once but, he hasn’t been around for a while. Pete came to tell me my wife had left with the kids and went back to the states. He thought I should know. But, the Doc keeps insisting that I don’t have a family. How can that be when I remember them so well? Isn’t that the reason the managers said I couldn’t leave here? I had to be on the nexus. I wish they would have revealed that bit of information before sending me here.
O Lincoln where are you? I know someone who can find you. I know the Tracker, the greatest Tracker ever and he can find you.
Entry Seven, 20 Mar 2010
Where are all these hall walkers coming from? I swear they’re multiplying. They just keep looking at me with those empty eyes. I rush past them as fast as I can so I don’t have to deal with them. Weirdos.
I feel really good today. I haven’t seen Rufus, but I did talk to 178 again. We had lunch together in the rec. room. We watched some TV. It was old episodes of McHale’s Navy. Now that’s a navy I could be a part of. I think I would fit right in.
Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1) Page 7