The car began to slide and rotate further down. More than half of it was now over the edge. Slowly, the rear began to tilt downward.
The longhaired man quickly thought, Bottom line: One, the kid remains stuck and falls with the car and you can’t stop it. Two, you use that new mojo stuff and try to save his butt. Then, he warned himself, But he can’t know anything happened.
Suddenly, Allen screamed, “Oh my God! I’m falling with the car! Don’t let me go, please, don’t let me go!”
The fall was inevitable. The front of the car rose and the whole car began to slide further down.
The man’s leg that pushed against the car began to rise with it. He tried to put his weight on it to keep it from tilting further. Hurriedly, the man’s eyes darted to Allen’s pinned feet. Most of the area was hidden from him by the dashboard and steering wheel; so, he couldn’t figure out what to focus his mind on in order to make a transformation.
“Allen. Allen! Look at me, Allen! Look at me!” His command was stern and his voice unwavering.
Allen’s frightened eyes locked onto his.
The man thought, Ok, changing any part of this kid’s limbs into something else is far down on my “to do” list at this moment. He tightly shut his eyes and concentrated on the area around the Allen’s feet. Suddenly and surprisingly, his mind began to sense and read the collapsed area. He had the ability to determine the exact position of Allen’s legs and feet. Also, he could sense the sections and outlines of the deformed car. An image started to generate in his mind of the broken plastic, deformed metal, sparking electrical wires, and Allen’s shoes and wriggling feet. When the image was complete, he opened his eye to look into Allen’s and said confidently, “Now, trust me.”
The man was ready.
In an instant, the crushed metal, plastic panels, and electrical wires - all that pinned down Allen’s feet - turned into soft brown mud. There was no light, no heat, and no cold generated. It was a perfect matter-to-matter conversion. He had transformed precisely enough to loosen the teenager’s feet.
The car reached a forty-five degree angle, taking Allen up with it, and its slide down into the ravine began to quicken.
Allen screamed with a quivering voice, “Oh my God! It’s falling!”
They gripped each other’s forearms tighter.
The man immediately pulled hard on Allen’s arm.
The teenager slid completely through the car window.
As the roof of the car scraped against the ground, the stones and sand under it cut into the paint and metal. Then, the car tumbled down into the ravine. After a brief silent freefall, the car crashed with a frightening sound far below, leaving the car twisted, crumpled, and shattered.
Allen was still gripping tightly, as he looked behind himself and into the ravine. He whimpered, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”
After a while, they both let each other go and propped themselves up on their knees facing each other.
He said to the teenager, “Are you ok? Any broken bones? Are you hurt?”
Allen looked at his arms, and moved his eyes to examine down to his chest, stomach, then legs. “Yeah, I’m ok.” Relieved, Allen put his hands on his knees. Soon, the boy began to whimper and sob.
“It’s ok. Ya did good, kid. Ya did good,” the man consoled. “Let’s get up and get you home.” He stood up then helped Allen up. As they trudged up the slope, he let the teenager walk in front of him.
Allen began to limp. “I think my foot is a little banged up.”
When they reached the concrete wall, they cautiously lifted their legs over the crushed concrete and twisted metal bars. Then, they stopped and stood on the sidewalk. Allen’s sobbing had waned a little.
Patting Allen on his back, the man asked in concern, “Are you ok now? Other than your foot, you sure you’re not hurt?”
With his head slumped down, Allen nodded.
“Good,” the man said, relieved. Suddenly, his tone changed to one of anger and irritation, as he said, “Because this is for driving too friggin’ fast!” He slapped Allen on the back of his head.
Surprised, Allen stumbled forward.
“This is for crashing your parent’s car!” He shoved the teenager on his shoulder, spinning him around. “And this is for making me miss my date!” With that, he kicked Allen directly between the cheeks of his rear end.
Allen hopped up in the air, as he received the sudden kick. But the boy took the punishment and didn’t complain; he knew he deserved it. After rubbing his rear for a few seconds, he began to limp along again. Looking down, he noticed the mud on his shoes. He turned to trace his steps from the large boulder, trying to find where he had stepped into mud. Not immediately seeing anything, he stopped looking. He then turned to his rescuer, saying gratefully, “Thanks for saving me…”
In return, the man gave a brief wave of his hand and a slight nod of his head.
Allen dragged and limped himself across the street, leaving a trail of mud as he slumped his way back home. As he rubbed the sting from his head and the ache from his rear, he began to sob once more.
Standing with his hands at his hips, the man thought, “I’m really not gonna make this date.”
Immediately, his mobile phone rang. It was Dancy. He answered it.
“Hey, sweetie pie!” she said. “How are ya? I’m sorry, but I’m running late…about an hour late. I know, I’m so sorry, but do you mind if you could pick me up an hour later? Or if you want, we could set another day.”
“No,” he responded calmly, and nonchalantly shaking his head, as though nothing had just happened. “Sure, I can pick you up an hour later. No problem.”
“Cool. I’m sooo sorry,” she said, and then added, “I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks for giving me the heads-up. See ya soon. Bye.” He put his phone back in his pocket. Sweet. That was convenient, he thought to himself.
He looked down at his clothes and used his hands to pad off some dirt. “Crap. I’m gonna have to get home, shower, and change.” He continued, “Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have planted that last kick on the kid. I really didn’t miss my date after all.”
But he shook his head and changed his mind, saying, “Nah…he deserved it.”
Brushing himself off again, he walked back to his car. Then, he turned to look back at the boulder and the sparkling shattered pieces of glass around it. He opened his car door, shook his head, and chuckled in disbelief. Then he looked up and watched Allen limp his way home.
“Hey! Allen!” he called out.
Allen turned around.
“Hop in. I’ll give ya a ride home. But shake off your shoes first, dude. I still have my date.”
Allen came hobbling.
He was ready a second time for his date.
He had on jeans and his casual black leather shoes. With the white long sleeved shirt he wore, he kept it tucked out of his jeans. Over that, he put on a black jacket that he scavenged from one of his suits.
Opening his apartment door, he took a step out. Immediately, he noticed a bottle on the floor outside. Keeping the door open, he stooped down to pick it up. “And what’s this?” he asked himself.
It was a bottle of red wine with an expensive-looking label.
He read the words on it that were all in French. Across the top were “Grand vin du Bordeaux.” Underneath an image of a vineyard were the words “Saint-Emilion.” “Huh,” he whispered, “It doesn’t look cheap. Definitely not my regular brand and certainly out of my pay grade.”
There was a note on it. A small black folded card was tied to the bottle by a thin gold ribbon. He took off the note and held it between his fingers. Reaching back into his apartment, he set down the bottle inside, next to the doorframe. After closing the door, he opened the card.
He began to walk down the stairs, and as he did, he took his attention off of the card and focused on the steps. When he reached his Mustang, he sat inside and started the car.
<
br /> Again, he turned his attention to the note.
It was written by hand in blocked lettering. It said, “You’re late to start, but it’s time to play our epic game. My first move was Israel, South Carolina. My second move is in NYC.”
Huh, he thought. That’s strange. Is this really for me? Maybe they got the wrong apartment.
Dismissing it, he pulled open the car’s ashtray and slid the note inside. Then, he backed up the Mustang, drove out of the complex, and headed toward the freeway.
Chapter 5
Just before his date, he parked his red Mustang across the street from Dancy’s apartment complex, in San Diego’s Mission Valley community.
He made sure not to look at himself in the rear view mirror. He knew what he looked like when he left the apartment, and that was good enough. I look like what I look like. It’s not gonna get any better, he thought.
Turning off the engine, he got out of the car and straightened up his shirt and coat. The clock on his phone told him he was five minutes late.
Suddenly, he blurted, “Crap! Flowers! I forgot the flowers.”
Raising his hands in resignation, he said, “You’re such a dork, ya rookie.”
He looked up at the apartment building. Dancy’s place was on the second floor. Then, he spied at the left and right of the building. There were well-trimmed bushes and hedging on either side; there seemed to be no weeds. It appeared as if someone had just worked on the grounds. He looked up and down the street; nobody was around. With a plan to correct his situation, he ran to the side of the building.
Upon reaching the hedging, he stooped down and hurriedly began to pull branches from it. He briefly stopped to glance up to make sure he wasn’t in the line of sight of anyone on the second floor of Dancy’s building. Quickly, he began yanking out branches once more. Then, he took two steps to the side to pull branches from that area, not wanting to leave a section of the hedging completely bare. There was a foot-tall dandelion at his feet. “Groundskeeper missed it!” He quickly pulled it up, yanking the root with it, along with a clump of dirt.
With a frown, he stared at the root and dirt. “Screw it. I’ll need the dirt too…”
He was yanking the branches with his left hand and arranging them in his right. When he had grabbed a decent handful, he stopped, and then started to jog, hunched down, toward the stairs leading to Dancy’s door.
Still on the sidewalk, he passed a gray-haired woman who suddenly appeared. She walked in the opposite direction with her tiny Yorkie terrier. He greeted her with a quick and friendly, “Good evening,” and jogged past her. In his haste, he didn’t think about hiding from the woman his leafy loot.
She stared at it and him, rubbernecking as she continued to walk.
He reached the stairs. Immediately, he straightened himself and slowed his pace to a casual walk. He fiddled with the foliage in his hand, as he ascended, trying to brush the dirt away. When he reached the door, he took a deep breath and knocked twice.
After a few moments, the door began to open.
Suddenly, he realized he was still gripping the handful of branches and weeds in front of him. He quickly moved them behind his back, holding them with both hands.
Dancy’s face appeared first. Then, she leaned through the opening of the door and stood in front of him. She was wearing a red satin and chiffon dress with spaghetti straps. It reached a few inches just above her knees, and she wore black high heels.
“Hi, cutie pie,” she greeted him, with a big smile.
He noticed everything she was wearing, including the slim gold chain around her neck, a gold bracelet on her right hand, and her pearl earrings. Her hair was pulled up in a bun. She held a petite black purse in her hand.
“You look just absolutely amazing.” He was awestruck. “I’m awestruck.”
“Thank you,” she smiled and curtsied. Then she noticed a green and white flash of light behind him. Her smile disappeared, and she gave a puzzled look. “What’s that back there?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s for you.” He drew forward a dozen long-stemmed, large-budded roses with baby’s breath around them, wrapped by a thick green and gold glistening ribbon. He hadn’t held back in what he wanted to present.
“They’re gorgeous!” she exclaimed. Holding them in her hands, she smelled one of the roses.
He smiled and became thoroughly pleased with himself.
Suddenly, she blurted, “Ouch!” Looking at her finger, she said, “Looks like they forgot a thorn.”
“Oh,” he frowned. “Sorry about that…I guess they did.”
“No big deal,” she responded. Dancy turned around and walked to her living room to set the roses on a table.
While she made her way in, he shook and clapped the remaining dirt from his hands. Keeping his eyes up on her, he stooped down and wiped them on his pant leg.
She turned back to face him.
He immediately stood straight.
When she reached the door, he extended a hand and asked, “Shall we?”
She took his hand and responded with a smile, “Let’s have some fun.”
They walked together down the stairs, onto the sidewalk, and across the street.
As they paced over the street, there was silence. No wind blew, no cars passed by, and no birds chirped in the trees. The only sound he heard was the sound of their shoes, as they stepped over the road, tapped the solid ground, and grinded over some of the scattered dirt. His ears paid attention to the sound.
He slowly turned to gaze in her eyes and smiled. She stood almost eye-to-eye with him. He opened the car door for her. When they were both inside, he selected a CD from his CD player and picked a song to play.
“I thought of this song, just while we were walking here,” he said.
It began to play with nothing but the clear and distinct sound of footsteps walking over a pavement. A few seconds later, there was a sharp pluck of a guitar, immediately followed by the rhythm of a base guitar. Then, a vigorous rev of an engine sounded.
Dancy recognized it and gave her approval, “Oh, I love this song!”
It was Roxy Music’s Love Is The Drug.
He turned to face her and grinned, saying, “Yeah, I like the new songs, but I’m mainly old-school. I hung around the grown-ups when I was a kid and learned to like their music.” Then, he put the car in drive and pulled into the street. With the song setting their mood to enjoy the evening, they made their way to downtown San Diego.
At the restaurant, he and Dancy sat across from each other. A lit candle was at either side of the table, and both of them were drinking a glass of cabernet wine.
He laughed at a story about her childhood that she had just finished recounting to him.
As he swirled the wine in his glass, he asked, “So, how’d you get your name?”
“Guess!” she smiled and perked up in her seat.
“Ok…” He thought for a moment, as he gazed in to his wine glass. Then, he asked, “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”
“Ah…that would be: movement.” She grinned.
He looked at her suspiciously, “That wasn’t one of my options, ma’am.”
“You were just too far off the beaten path and onto the wrong planet.”
“Hmm…ok good point. So, was it given to you before or after you were born?”
“Before.”
“Before or after conception.”
She giggled, “After.”
“Did your mom, dad, close relative, being a DJ or otherwise, ballet dancing or otherwise, have anything to do with hoity-toity performing arts individuals or anyone of the ‘foo-foo’ pinky-up-while-I-drink persuasion?”
“Noooo. Absolutely not.”
“Did it have something to do with some type of movement in the womb by one gorgeous subject sitting directly in front of me?”
She was flattered. “Of course it does.”
“Was said movement of said gorgeous babe sitting directly in front of me accompanied with or instigate
d by some sort of boogie music?”
“Yes…”
“Ah, got it. You moved so much in your mother’s womb when you heard music that she decided to call you ‘Dancy’.”
“Oh, you got it! Amazing powers of deduction from one handsome man sitting directly in front of me.” She explained, “Whenever dance music played I would start kicking and punching inside her belly.” She motioned with her fist and punched short jabs in the air, like a boxer.
“That was fun,” he grinned. “Thanks for the guessing game.”
“Actually, this will make you laugh. My first name is Teensy. Because I was such a teensy-tiny baby.” She said teensy-tiny with a high-pitched voice.
“No way. Teensy…Dancy?” He nodded his head slowly, as he smiled. “Nice. Well if you have any siblings, I’d hesitate to ask their names.”
“Fortunately, they’re all normal - their names are, that is. But their state of mind may be questionable,” she said giggling. Then she asked, “How about you? I mean, back to being kids, what do you remember?”
He drank from the wine. “Well, I actually grew up on a farm in North Dakota.”
“Really?!”
“Yup. We raised farm animals. Chickens, pigs, cows, horses, camels, armadillos. You name it.”
“What? No way.”
“Well, cancel the camels and armadillos. But we did have the other ‘animules’. I woke up with the roosters and had my morning chores.”
“Interesting.” She folded her arms on top of the table and nodded her head. “Tell me more, Haws.”
He chuckled and folded his arms on top of the table as well, to mimic her. “Well…Bertha, ‘ole girl.’
She mouthed, “Bertha?!” and opened her mouth in her usual feigned, appalled look.
He nodded slowly and continued with a heavy southern, country drawl, “Well, ah…Bertha…lemme tell ya. Thems was hard cold winters when I had ta git up earl-eye in the mornin’ and milk thems camels and roosters.”
RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone Page 11