SNAP! and the Alter Ego Dimension

by Ann Hite Kemp

  If his story was true, then he wasn’t really a murderer, Tammy thought. Or was he lying? Most murderers are liars, justifying their rage by distorting the truth.

  “What’s your name?” Hiroshi asked. “Where are you from?”

  “Nick,” the man answered without looking at Hiroshi. “Nick Hoover, from Australia.” When he finally looked up, he addressed Ulrich. “Can we walk around here?” he asked. “Safely, I mean. I can’t see where to tread.”

  “Yes, there is a flat floor or something below this grayness,” Ulrich replied. “You can see about five meters all around. But be careful, Mr. Hoover, your other self knows what you think even as you’re thinking it. That’s why it’s very difficult to beat them. Or surprise them.”

  “Nick,” said the Australian. “Nobody calls me mister. And thanks, thanks for the heads-up. I . . . I’ll be on my way then, to search for my . . . other self. Cheers.” Nick turned around and Tammy watched him as he cautiously walked off into the grayness.

  “Thank heavens,” Tammy sighed pleased. “We’re rid of that guy.”

  “But we need his gun,” Etsu moaned.

  “We don’t have enough food for him, Etsu,” Tammy said. “Let him go his own way.”

  “He’s a dangerous killer,” Ulrich answered. “I don’t buy his story. He was too willing to tell us everything. He could kill us for our food. Ach, he could kill us to be his food . . . Let us continue with the digging.”

  Tammy looked back to the corpse, now silhouetted by a halo of fresh, crimson blood. This was the first time in her life she had seen a dead person. Actually seen a person die. She could hardly believe what was happening here. It felt as if she was trapped in the worst nightmare imaginable.

  She wondered about the dead man. What would happen in his world back home? Did he have children? Family? Did his wife really despise him? Was Nick telling the truth about him? Was he so miserable that he could only find peace in drugs, drugs to help blind him to his problems? Was he at peace now?

  Her eyes wandered over the body’s brown pants, brown socks and dark brown shoes. He wasn’t a big man. Definitely bigger than herself, but she was cold. Her feet were freezing. She could do with a pair of socks and shoes . . . even though they would be too big for her. Rather too big than too small . . .

  She could not believe that she was considering what she was actually considering. She was about to loot the corpse of a dead man. Never in her life would she have considered putting on a dead man’s socks and shoes. What was this place doing to her?

  “Hiroshi, Ulrich. May I ask you a favor?” The two youngsters looked enquiringly at her. They’d hardly moved.

  “Of course,” Hiroshi said and lowered his sword.

  “That dead man, Chris . . . ” She pointed at the body. “Can I have his pants, socks and shoes? Will you undress him for me, please? I’m so cold.”

  “Of course,” Ulrich echoed Hiroshi and they moved to the body. “He doesn’t need them anymore.”

  “Ulrich, help turn him over so we can undo his pants,” Hiroshi said.

  Etsu picked up the mug and checked to make sure that it wasn’t broken.

  “Maybe we can use it,” she thought aloud.

  As Tammy watched her friends work on stripping Chris, she again felt nauseous, squeamish. How terrible! We’re like tramps preying on a dead comrade, she thought.

  She fought back her tears. This was not a good time to cry.

  Chapter Ten

  THE SOCKS WERE STILL WARM when Tammy pulled them over her cold feet. The pants were much too long and way too big for her. Even the dead man’s belt was so long there were not enough holes to keep the pants up around her waist. Undeterred, she rolled the pant legs up and tied the belt in a crude knot about her waist. Later on they may find something that she could use to make another hole in the belt. The tip of Hiroshi’s sword was much too wide.

  She looked at the dead man’s tie. It would have made a much better belt if it hadn’t been drenched in blood. She shuddered.

  Tammy turned her back on the body and put on the shoes. They were at least a size nine and she was only just using size sixes. Even though they were very loose, the shoes and socks felt much better than cold, bare feet. Her whole body soon began to feel warmer. Perhaps she’d find a pair of small socks or some material that she could stuff into the front of the shoes to fill the gaps.

  She stood up and checked out her feet. The oversized shoes looked even bigger with their tapered points.

  Ulrich laughed and quickly covered his mouth. Tammy frowned, but couldn’t get annoyed with him as she knew that she looked ridiculous.

  “You look like a clown,” Ulrich said, still laughing. “But the shoes should be bright red or yellow. Wait, let me take a picture of you.”

  Etsu and Hiroshi also began to snigger and Tammy joined in. She must look frightful. A multi-colored curtain for a dress, oversized men’s trousers and shoes and still that damned pimple by her nose. She wished she could see herself in a mirror . . . Or perhaps not.

  Ulrich switched his phone on and took a picture while everyone was still laughing. Etsu also took her phone out of the pocket of her jacket. Hiroshi saw her and was obviously cross. Tammy didn’t need to know Japanese to understand that he was telling her off.

  Taken aback, Etsu put the phone away. Tammy reasoned that Hiroshi was probably worried about the phone’s power failing.

  Yet, Tammy wished she had her phone so that she could take photos of this place and her newfound friends. Should she return to earth, she wanted something to show to her mother and her other friends. But perhaps she wouldn’t show them to Wayne. If he saw her like this, he would probably never ask her out again. He would go back to his lovely Rosette.

  “Can I see what I look like?” she asked and Ulrich showed her the picture. She burst out laughing again.

  For the moment they could find the situation hilarious, she thought, but in truth there was nothing funny about it. They were in a fix that she would not wish on her worst enemy. Not even beautiful, blow-up plastic doll-faced Rosette.

  After they got their laughter under control, Tammy felt much better. It was as if her stress levels had been dialed down. What happened next didn’t matter so much anymore. They must try and find a way out of this place, and in the meantime find food and water and survive.

  “All jokes aside,” she said to everyone as she gave Ulrich his phone back. “I think we must drag this man away from the tree. We don’t want to look at him all the time, not while we’re working on the roots.”

  “Agreed,” said Etsu and the two boys nodded their assent as well.

  Hiroshi, still with the sword in one hand, and Ulrich took hold of a leg each and dragged the man into the grayness. In a few seconds they were lost from view, and moments later even the sound of their breathing and exertions were swallowed by the grayness.

  Tammy suddenly felt scared and stepped closer to Etsu. They had almost forgotten about the danger from their other selves.

  But in less than a minute the boys were back.

  “We put him over there,” Ulrich pointed. “Behind a pink wall, but we couldn’t leave you two alone much longer.”

  “No way to bury or cremate him,” Hiroshi said and put a hand on Ulrich’s shoulder. “I’m still hungry,” he said. “Let’s get back to digging up roots.”

  They started scraping at the soil with renewed vigor. The tree had thick, red-brown roots with much thinner, yellowish offshoots. It was the thinner root that Hiroshi hacked off with his sword and cut into slices. Tammy thought they resembled small pineapple rings.

  They each took a piece.

  Tammy peeled the thin outer film from the root slice. Beneath, the root was a more appetizing white. She took a tiny bite from the fleshy pineapple thing and chewed. It was more bitter and a lot tougher than a fresh carrot, but otherwise not too bad. She took another bite.

  Soon she realized that the other three were staring at her. Not one of them had taken
a bite from their piece.

  “I think it’s okay,” she said encouragingly. “I rather like it. A little bitter.”

  Now it was Tammy’s turn to watch them take a bite. They seemed cautious, their lips drawn back like dogs eating something that they didn’t really like. As soon as they’d started to chew though, they looked a lot more comfortable.

  “Um, nice,” Hiroshi agreed, then added: “More?” and chopped at another root without waiting for an answer.

  “We’ll have to move your ‘room’ here,” Ulrich said and took another slice. “I don’t think we’ll be able to move this tree. It must weigh a few tons.”

  “We’ll first have to catch the birds before we leave,” Tammy suggested. “We can’t leave someone here to watch them. It’s too dangerous. We’ve only got one weapon.”

  “I told you,” Etsu scolded Tammy. “Pistol very useful other weapon.”

  Tammy responded quickly, pressing her lips together and staring at the tree for a minute. “We can break that long branch off and sharpen one end like a spear. That’ll make another weapon.”

  Tammy couldn’t imagine herself piercing anything or anyone with a spear, but perhaps, when pushed, she would rise to the challenge. Maybe, if her life was threatened, she’d find the strength and the courage. Like with mixed martial arts. She knows how to push someone’s windpipe back to kill him, but that was all just theoretical. Would she do it if needs be?

  “Good, Tammy!” Hiroshi said excitedly, eyeing up the branch. “Good idea. Hold the sword while I climb the tree. First we’ll catch the birds and then make the spear.” Then he spoke again, addressing Ulrich. “Be ready to catch the birds when I knock them to the ground.”

  Tammy felt close to tears. One moment she was terrified, the next she was laughing and now she was distressed by what had to be done to eat. How had she landed herself in this crazy situation? She, an ardent nature-lover, driven to actions and cruelty against her very nature. Condoning actions she found abhorrent. She so wanted to wake up from this silly, sad and cruel dream.

  “You go ahead and catch the birds,” she said to Etsu and Ulrich. “I’ll keep an eye out for the alter egos.”

  Tammy took her place in the middle of the side open to the grayness and let the tip of the sword rest between her oversized shoes. She held the black hilt in both hands against her stomach and watched the grayness in front of her intently.

  She felt like the ancient Joan of Arc. The female French knight who was burned at the stake after being on trial for heresy and sorcery, only to be given sainthood by the Church of Rome at a much later date.

  Her eyes tried to pierce the opaque of grayness. At first she likened it to a morning mist, like the wispy mist that hangs over the hilltops in Pretoria a day after light rains. But that is a gentle, slow moving white mist that glides harmlessly off the hills to occasionally coat her lawn and pool in a fluffy cotton wool. Every bush or tree would look hazy, softer and brighter. The grayness of Alter Ego Land was very different. It was like moveable, solid walls of dirty smog. Inside the smog-shell everything was clear, but as you moved forwards or backwards, the smog shifted with you, eerily keeping pace. Shrouding who knows what dangers lurking just a few short steps away.

  Tammy was startled by shouts and noises from the three behind her and heard Hiroshi uttered Japanese words that she thought must be the sort you didn’t use in polite company. It was obvious that they were having trouble catching the birds, but she didn’t dare risk a backwards glance.

  The noises died down and she heard the snap of a branch breaking.

  She couldn’t help but turn around, stepping back onto the grass and unconsciously raising the sword. She looked behind her at Ulrich and Hiroshi with the branch they would use as a spear. Every one of them should be armed, she thought, then they could all travel more freely through this grayness and seek out the hiding places of their other selves.

  When she noticed the three birds in Etsu’s hands, tears welled up again. How awful, she thought. Their short lives ended so prematurely, just to make us a pathetic, meager meal. She looked closely at the birds through eyes glazed by tears. The birds were beautiful, but she couldn’t identify them. That in itself was a surprise, because Tammy would often sit with her mother watching the birds in their garden in Pretoria. They could recognize and name almost every type, but these were new to her. The birds and the tree they were in must come from some place far from home.

  “We pluck feathers while they still warm,” Etsu said in her staccato English.

  Tammy couldn’t take it any longer. Her vision blurred completely as her eyes flooded. She cried, fought to hold the sobs back, then gave up and let the tears flow. She bent forward and rested her head on her hands. Hands which, in turn, rested on the long Japanese sword.

  She felt a comforting hand on her back.

  “Let it all out,” Ulrich’s soft voice came from somewhere close to her ear. “Cry as much as you like, Tammy.” The hand moved gently across her back, squeezing her shoulder. “I feel real bad about the birds, too. I’m going to light a cigarette, to see where the smoke goes. There is a wooden door and lots of paper against the walls in Hiroshi and Etsu’s room. My door also came with me. Perhaps we can start a fire and cook the food. When we’ve eaten, we’ll all feel better. Better about the birds, I mean.” For a while they stood in silence, before Ulrich started talking again. Maybe he only spoke to take her mind off the birds . . . and the murder. “Shame there’s no salt,” he said, “but perhaps that’s a good thing, we don’t have water and the salt would make us even thirstier.”

  Tammy straightened up as Ulrich moved to stand in front of her. He took the sword and handed it to Hiroshi. Then he turned to her again and pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket. Gently he wiped the tears from her face, cradling her chin with his left hand.

  She couldn’t help but look directly into his eyes. She saw sympathy and empathy in their brown depths. She felt that he understood what she was feeling. He really was different than Wayne, who’d been so heartless with his laughter. When was that? Just this morning, yesterday, or a week ago? Undoubtedly, Ulrich cared, cared for her as a person.

  “Thank you,” she said, then nuzzled even closer to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. For a moment she forgot about the pimple on her face and the silly looking clothes she’d draped around her. She was just Tammy, no longer embarrassingly self-conscious. Ulrich took her in his arms and held her to his chest. His warm, strong body felt so good, so safe, so reassuringly comforting.

  “We’ll get out of this place, Tammy. We’ll survive, I promise,” he said, his hand now holding the back of her head, his fingers stroking her hair. “And I’ve had an idea. I’m going to make us some water.” He smiled down at her puzzled expression. “In my school they don’t call me ‘Einstein’ for nothing,” he laughed.

  Tammy smiled through her sadness. He made her feel so much better. It was as if strength and power flowed from him to her. His closeness made her as positive and determined as he was. Yes, she said to herself. Again she said yes and at last she really believed it. Yes, we will survive.

  And that was what they all needed. To believe in themselves and each other. They couldn’t just sit here and wait for their alter egos to destroy them.

  Water. Ulrich said he was going to make water. She was still very thirsty, although the root slices had helped a little. They were somewhat watery, but nothing like the real thing. She longed for a proper glass of clean, cool water. And her hands were dirtier than she ever remembered seeing them. She would love to wash her hands with soap and water. Or even take a shower. At this point in time she couldn’t think of anything else she’d rather do.

  When she pictured herself in the shower she had a sudden urge, an urge to pee.

  She, and all of them, would sooner or later have to go to a bathroom. Where and how do you do that in this place? How do you wash properly afterwards? Goodness! she thought, worriedly. This dimension is just a storeroom,
a transitioning room between consciousness and sleep. A place between something and nothing. A place definitely not designed for people to live in . The faster they could get out of here, the better.

  Ulrich let her go, moved just outside the cube the tree was in and took the cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. Tammy watched as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He somewhat clumsily inhaled then coughed.

  Etsu and Hiroshi observed anxiously, the latter raising his sword and stepping closer to Ulrich in case they had any unwelcome visitors.

  The cigarette smoke drifted almost straight up in the still air and was lost amongst the grayness above them.

  “So, warm air drifts upwards like it does on earth,” observed Tammy. “Do you think all the laws of nature and physics still apply here?” she asked, only to be a little surprised that Hiroshi should answer before Ulrich could.

  “Except for day and night, because the sun doesn’t shine here,” he said.

  “Come, let’s go get paper and wood,” Ulrich proposed, wiping his mouth with his hand. “A door or chair or something.” He pressed the cigarette into some freshly dug soil. Tammy thought he looked relieved to squash it out. Not what she’d expect from a smoker . . .

  Chapter Eleven

  TAMMY WAS STILL NOT at school, Wayne realized, making his way over to the copse of trees where the grade twelve’s hung out. He saw Tammy’s mother, with their principal, Mr. Du Plooy, in the shade of the trees. They were busy talking to the children. There were also two men dressed in civilian clothes, Wayne guessed, they must be plainclothes police, helping to look for the missing girl. When Wayne’s turn to be questioned came around, he actually knew no more than Tammy’s mother, and could add nothing to help.

  “Do you have anything to go on?” Wayne asked the detective as his interview finished.

  “I’m sorry,” the man answered, turning a page on his notepad, “but I’m not allowed to discuss an ongoing case with civilians.”