by C. E. Murphy
The sky provided; it was deep cerulean, almost too dark for nature, but less disturbing than Judy’s shadowy skin. Only when my gaze went to the sun did I realize that it was black, too, and that in the Lower World the sky should be crimson, not blue. I pressed the heels of my hands over my eyes and shuddered. “I have to go back.” My voice still sounded parched to my own ears, and I didn’t want to look at Judy to see if her expression said I sounded odd to her, too. “…snake, will you come with me?” I didn’t know how to address it, and I didn’t want to look at its swimming patterns, either. It hissed with ill-concealed annoyance, but slithered forward and climbed up my body to wrap around my shoulders. “Thank you,” I whispered, grateful to not have to look at it. My hands pressed against my eyes were making sparks that reminded me: “Where’s—”
I didn’t finish the question before I felt the presence I was looking for. The tortoise appeared behind my eyelids again, its colors bright and proper, unlike everything around me. “There you are,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
It bobbed its head agreeably and I swallowed against sickness again. The snake wanted me to carry it on my shoulders, but the tortoise seemed satisfied to come along for the ride behind my eyelids. “Tomorrow,” I grated at Judy. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
I couldn’t close my eyes any harder, but I tried, and fell upward through my bellybutton back home.
Chapter Sixteen
The snake wasn’t actually coiled around my shoulders when I opened my eyes in my dark living room. I could feel its weight, but my fingers brushed my arms as I folded them around myself, not meeting any scaly resistance. My head hurt. My skin hurt; I tested it with my fingertips, trying to feel heat. There wasn’t any, but the papery dryness of sunburn was there. I got up and walked through darkness to turn the shower on, not bothering with the lights. The single window in the bathroom was curtained, but enough morning light leaked through the shade to keep me from killing myself as I stepped into the tub.
The hot water was too hot. I turned it down again, then again, until it was lukewarm and cooled my skin. I felt vaguely sick to my stomach, more exhaustion than genuine illness, and wondered what time it was. Maybe I could nap before work.
No, I couldn’t. I groaned and put my face against the shower wall. The tile was cold, shocking my cheekbone. I groaned again, in appreciation, and turned around to lean against the tile, letting cool water run down my front. I felt sunburned, all over, my skin too thin and too hot. I wondered if I had any aloe vera, and then I slept for a while, standing there with my feet lodged against the far edge of the tub so I wouldn’t fall down.
I woke up when the lukewarm water turned cold, with no sense of how much time had passed. Last time I’d done that—and the fraction of my brain still capable of thought decided it was a bad sign that there was a last time for falling asleep in the shower—Coyote had visited me. My coyote. Not this time. A sudden surge of energy hit me and I jolted out of the tub, grabbing a towel in the semidark and scrubbing it over my face.
Then I sat on the toilet and whimpered for a while until my sunburned skin stopped protesting the rough abuse from the towel. Getting dressed was going to hurt. But I had to. Even if I called in sick to work, which Morrison wouldn’t believe because it was going to be another beautiful day, I still had to deliver the spirit guides to Colin and Gary. And if I was going to get dressed at all, I might as well go to work instead of calling in with the Blue Sky Flu.
The red numbers on my clock flared an inversed blue when I wobbled into my bedroom: 9:37. I flipped the light on and it went black in my eyes before reasserting itself in the more normal yellow-white bulb light. I rubbed my eyes gingerly and went to find my uniform. Coyote’s little explosion trick was leaving a mark.
Halfway through getting dressed I noticed my skin wasn’t visibly sunburned. It still felt burned: I kept involuntarily flinching away from cloth brushing my skin, and the idea of putting on a vest made my head pound even harder. I glanced at the clock again; a quarter to ten. I had forty-five minutes to get to work. I might be able to tear by and visit Colin, who was the sicker of the two. Maybe I could see Gary at lunch. Either way, I wasn’t going to be left with enough time to plop down on my bed and see if I could get rid of the ache of sunburn with the idea of a new paint job, or the funky vision with a little windshield wiper fluid. It could wait till tonight. I could suffer until then. I went back into the bathroom, drank three glasses of water, put my contacts in, and determined that my reflection was haggard, horrible, and not in the least sunburned. It didn’t seem fair somehow.
The phone rang on my way out the door. My stomach seized up and I ran back, snatching it out of the cradle. A woman demanded, “Are you alive?”
“What?” God, my voice sounded as dreadful as it had in the desert. I cleared it and tried again. “I mean, yes.”
“This is Phoebe. You were supposed to be here fifty minutes ago. Fencing lesson?”
“Oh. Oh, God. I’m sorry. Last night got kind of weird.” I felt the snake’s weight slither around my shoulders, settling more comfortably. That was just so totally not cool I couldn’t even begin to express it. The tortoise was much more circumspect. I knew he was there somewhere, waiting for me to need him. I liked that a lot more than the slithery snake. “I just got home. I’m on my way to work. I completely spaced it.”
“Everything okay?” I could hear the frown in her voice.
“Yeah. More or less. Look, I’ve really got to go, so I’ll call you back and reschedule later, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”
I wondered what she’d say if I said, “Sure, fine, except the sunburn that isn’t there, the lack of sleep, the thirty-pound snake on my shoulders, and the way the lights keep imploding their color.” Fortunately for both of us, I didn’t really want to say it, and instead said, “Thanks for checking up on me. I’ll call. Bye.” I hung up and made a break for the great outdoors and Petite.
* * * *
The sky went yellow and the sun went black when I stepped outside. I flung my equipment bag into Petite’s passenger seat, dropped into the driver seat, and fumbled for my sunglasses, wondering if the traffic lights were going freak out the way the rest of the lights were. That would be a real pain in the ass. I tried to remember if the order was red-yellow-green or red-green-yellow as I drove down the street.
It was red-yellow-green, but watching the yellow burst into incandescent blue was so interesting I ran the light and nearly T-boned a Camero. I didn’t blame the guy for leaning on his horn. After that I bit my tongue and paid significant attention to what I was doing.
By the time I reached the hospital I’d figured it out. The color inversion wasn’t a constant: it just happened when light changed, and then faded back to normal. I’d be okay for the day as long as I was cautious, though I’d have to hope I wouldn’t need to identify any runaway vehicles, because my first glance at anything seemed to come up with entirely the wrong colors.
Colin’s pale hair looked black and silky as death, for example. It faded back into blond as I sat down by his bed, grinning crookedly at him. He opened one eye and lifted an eyebrow. “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”
“Guess not.” My voice fell into that irritatingly quiet hospital voice that people use. “How you doing?”
“Better, with an Amazon visiting me. They killed off their sick and weak, you know. For the good of the tribe.”
My eyebrows went up too. “I didn’t know. I don’t think they mentioned that in the comic books.”
“Different kind of Amazon. You could be one of that kind.” he said, looking me over critically. “Except, no offense, you’ve got nothing on Lynda Carter.”
I laughed out loud, shaking the hospital voice off. “You’re not old enough to know who Lynda Carter is.”
“Dude,” he said, sincerely, “I’m not dead.”
I laughed again. “And ‘not dead’ is all it takes?”
“Damn straight,” Colin said with a nod, then sank back into the covers, looking weary.
“Hey,” I said, quiet again. “I can only stay for a minute, okay? But I wanted to come by and say hi. Say a couple words of Amazon healing over you, that sort of thing, huh?”
Colin smiled without opening his eyes again. “Every little bit helps. Thanks, Joanne.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. The snake didn’t need telling; it just coiled its way down from my shoulders to wrap itself around Colin’s.
My vision smashed into inversion, the walls and bed, Colin’s white skin and blond hair, all going black with hard shimmering blue edges. The lights overhead seemed to pop out, emitting blackness, and for a moment I could see the spirit-snake, his pale tans and browns all gone to blue and greens like they had in the Lower World. I jerked my hand off Colin’s shoulder and put it to my head. He opened his eyes, frowning. “Joanne?”
“It’s…I’ve got something weird going on with my vision this morning. It’s okay. It just went all freaky.” The effect was fading now, although the edges of things seemed a little dimmer, still hanging on to their reversed colors.
“You’ve probably got a brain tumor,” Colin said cheerfully. I gaped at him, then laughed silently, shoulders shaking.
“Thank you. Thanks, Colin, that makes me feel a lot better.” Please, I asked the snake. Give him the strength and protection he needs. Thank you. I’ll do my best to honor you. I smiled, partly for the snake and partly for Colin. I’ll heed my teacher.
My vision popped black again, and I fumbled my way out of the hospital, hoping I’d make it to work on time.
* * * *
I clocked in no more than two minutes late. The precinct building lights snapped to inverse colors every time I opened a door, and I tripped over backwardly shadowed stairs and my own feet three times trying to get to the front door. Getting outside into the heat and morning sunlight was almost a relief. At least it was consistent, even if every breath I dragged in tasted of overheated street tar and dust.
At lunch I radioed Bruce at the front desk and asked him to punch me out so I’d have more time to go visit Gary. He told me that was illegal and did it anyway.
I felt a little silly pulling into the hospital parking lot in the patrol car, as if there ought to be a dire emergency that justified the black and white. A couple of visitors gave me curious looks as I strode through the parking lot, suddenly in a hurry to see the old man.
He was in PT when I got there. A critical nurse examined me from head to toe before asking, “Are you his daughter?”
Out of the various questions I’d expected upon showing up in uniform, that wasn’t one of them. I tried counting on my fingers how old Gary’d have been when he fathered me if I were his daughter and came up with a reasonable number as an answer. “Yes. I’m also on lunch break, so do you think I could maybe see him, please?”
“Well.” The nurse tapped lacquered nails against the desk, examining me again. “I suppose. But if the therapist says no, you’ll have to go immediately, miss.”
For the first time in my life I had to swallow the urge to correct her with “Officer.” It took a couple of seconds, and then I put on a cheery smile and said, “Sure, of course.”
Her expression said I wasn’t fooling anyone. “Second floor.”
“Thank you.” I got out of there at a brisk pace, uncertain how long my bout of transparent politeness was going to last.
The PT room had half a dozen patients in it. None of them looked particularly patient, least of all Gary, who bore the expression of a constipated rhino as he trod a treadmill. A cute blond woman sat in a chair beside the treadmill, saying, “Two minutes,” in a voice that wasn’t so much encouraging as it was uncompromising. She gave me a gimlet stare and I pointed to a chair near hers, eyes wide in a question. She pursed her lips, eyed her watch, and nodded once, sharply. I scurried past Gary to the chair, giving him a broad wink that I was pretty sure the PT couldn’t see. He cracked a slow grin that brightened him up all over, and picked up his pace a bit.
He looked better. Much better, like the vitality I was used to seeing in him had been replenished wholesale and the only reason he was there was because they wouldn’t let him go home yet. A little bubble of joy lit up inside me. I hadn’t been able to properly fix his heart, but maybe the energy I’d lent him had done some good. Even with my vision flipping inside-out, he looked better. I sat there grinning stupidly until the therapist said, “Cool down,” and slowed the treadmill. After another minute, she glanced from her watch to me to Gary. “Five minutes. Drink water.” Then she got up and left, leaving me grinning after her.
“Does she ever use sentences of more than two words?” I got up to get Gary a cup of water while he plunked down in the chair next to the one I abandoned.
“Pretty much no,” he said. I came back with the water and he enveloped me in a bear hug. I hung on and tried not to spill water, either from the cup or from my eyes. I was getting to be a real soft touch in my old age.
“You look better,” I mumbled against his shoulder. He shoved me back into my chair, sort of like I was a big dog, and ruffled my hair, undoing the complete lack of styling I’d spent so much time at this morning.
“Feelin‘ better,” he announced. “’Cept the food’s terrible, and nobody’ll sneak me in a Big Mac.” He eyed me hopefully. I grinned through embarrassingly bright eyes.
“Like hell. Here, have some water instead.”
Gary snorted but took the cup and drank greedily. “So what’m I missin‘, Jo? Didja bring me back a bear? This place is worse than a crypt for gettin’ news in.”
We both looked around, and after a couple of seconds, he said, “Mebbe not that bad. So, a bear?” He looked as enthusiastic as a kid at Christmas, gray eyes bright and eyebrows bushing eagerly. I thought of the tortoise, tucked somewhere safe behind my eyes, and laughed.
“No, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on the bear’s part.” I realized, once more to my embarrassment, that I had no idea how to transfer the more subtle tortoise to Gary. Colin’s snake had just crawled off me, but this was entirely different. “Think your PT would object to a couple minutes’ meditation?”
“No,” she said from behind me. I jolted and twisted around, trying to arrange my face into a “sure, I knew you were there” expression. “I’d approve,” she said. “Meditation’s healing. Releases stress. Go ahead.” It was like listening to a very determined and very precise woodpecker. I was so busy counting the number of words it took me several seconds to realize she’d given permission. Then I straightened up, beaming at her.
“Thanks! Except I don’t have a drum,” I said.
“You could sing for me,” Gary suggested, grinning. “Think you said you don’t scare the neighbors.” I laughed.
“Just close your eyes and stop being a pain.” Actually, I wanted him to continue being a pain for another fifteen or twenty years. He closed his eyes, still grinning. I folded one leg under me and took his hands, letting my own eyes close.
“Concentrate on your breathing,” the PT said, her voice soft and soothing and completely unexpected. My eyes flew open, vision flattening, going negative, and reversing itself back to normal. God, I was getting to hate that. Gary’d opened his eyes, too, and we both blinked at the PT, whose eyebrows rose slightly. “No drum,” she said with a shrug. “Listen to me instead.”
“Right.” I smiled at her, trying not to look as startled as I felt, and Gary cleared his throat in the best gruff manner available. We closed our eyes again, and concentrated on our breathing. “I’m going to guide you,” I said, barely audible beneath the PT’s calm voice. “I want to bring you to a place of healing, where the transfer will do the most good.” I was working on instinct, my body feeling heavier and heavier with every breath. “Imagine sinking through—”
I plunged through my tailbone and went on a greased slide through about a zillion layers of earth. The ground came up and caught me with a
muffled crash, and I found myself staring upward, looking for the hole in the sky I felt like I’d fallen through.
There was no sky, only thick, healthy tangled trees arching over my head. I closed my fingers on the earth, prickles tickling my palms, and looked around to discover I was sitting in a cushioning heap of moss. I was stuck a good eight inches into it, my knees pointed awkwardly at the trees above. I pushed up for a fruitless moment, trying to get unstuck. Somewhere in the wriggling, I took a deep breath, and forgot all about trying to get free.
This place smelled alive and rich. Clean air and a little bit of wind, carrying the scent of green all the way into my bones. It had rained nearby, close enough for coolness to still be in the air, although my moss hump was dry. The slight chill settled into my skin, making me remember the ache of bone-deep sunburn. That ache was gone for the moment, and hairs on my arms stood up in appreciation of the mild temperature.
With my eyes closed I could hear the busy hum of bugs and birds going about their business, and water burbling somewhere relatively nearby. A branch cracked a few steps away from me, a burst of wings sounded, and I opened my eyes again to find an amused, broad-shouldered man standing above me. He wore an olive green army uniform, a black tag with bright yellow letters on it above his left breast pocket. He looked at ease and confident, hands in his pockets as he slouched over me.
He was on the good side of ageless, laugh lines starting to crinkle around gray eyes. His hair was dark, cut military short to go with the uniform, but his eyebrows were already starting to get away from him. His nose had been broken at least once, taking away any chance at beauty but leaving behind a sort of cheerful ruggedness that made me forget how to breathe. He stuck a big hand out, encompassing mine entirely as I put it in his. My hands weren’t small, but his made me feel delicate as he pulled me to my feet with an easy surge.