(no subject)

43.

When the food came it was a mystifying mosaic on fine china. The man who brought it also delivered a basket full of bread. Mickey grabbed the bread and devoured it as he realized how hungry he really was.

There was nothing on the plate that looked like meat.

On the 1:00 space of the plate was a pile of something green that might be something in the spinach family, but not with the definition of leaves. It had the look of creamed spinach without the cream.

Mickey ate a second piece of bread.

At 3:00 was a rectangle of shades of red. The boy forced himself not to think that it looked like someone had eaten it and then regurgitated it onto his plate, but it sure did.

Mickey took the next to last piece of bread.

At 6:00 were slices of something that didn’t look like any squash or like vegetable he
knew. These were greenish-white with a squash like center, but he didn’t trust them.

Mickey drank from his water glass, and then took the last piece of bread.

At 9:00 was a mound of something orange with hunks of yellow stuff peaking out of it.

“More bread?” The waiter guy asked.

Mickey looked up and, despite himself, nodded, sheepishly, yes.

“You only have to try a bite of it,” His mother had always said.

“I won’t make you eat anything you try and don’t like,” His father had said.

For the first time in his life, Mickey had a sublime revelation.

His parents were working together on these things! They had planned stuff like this. He had heard the words “United Front,” and now he knew what they were about.

As the basket of bread arrived he picked up his fork. Tentatively he poked the green pile, and then dipped the tip of the fork there.

It was some kind of spinach, just with some different spices. It was good, and he was happy he had tried it. He finished the pile and ate a piece of bread and drank a bit more water.

Now the red-vomitish pile awaited.

It was not horrible, but was a little hot/spicy for him, so he passed on that one, with but a single taste.

The vegetable slices were cucumbers! They were smaller and greener than he was used too, but they were great. He didn’t think he’d ever had crispier cucumbers, or more flavorful ones. He suddenly wanted to try the last pile of stuff.

This was a real revelation. It was a form of sweet potatoes with hunks of pineapple.

He had never thought of putting the two together, and there might have been something else in there, maybe cinnamon, but it was really good.

“Don’t hate anything before you try it,” His father had told him over and over again, “You may miss something that becomes one of your favorites.”

He was missing his parents a lot.

As the waiter took the table from before him, Mickey heard the Cloud Being address him again.

“We will be at our destination in about 45 minutes. At this time you will begin your orientation,” It said.

People sure wanted to orient him.

The being turned away again and returned to his parade of 1970’s pop tunes, and Sanna came to stand next to Mickey.

“Sanna will take you to your temporary quarters on board,” the over the shoulder, as if he had one, voice of the thing said.

The female looked down with pure hatred at the 11 year old boy.

“Come on,” She spat out at him.

Mickey wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood up, but before they took a single step they were stopped.

“And give her the dinner knife you took,” The voice of the evil thing said, “It wouldn’t do you much good anyway.”

The boy retrieved the cutlery from his pant leg where he had stashed it and handed it to the sneering woman.

Sanna put the knife on the desk and then directed her captive to the door on the opposite side of the car from the one they had entered.

There were two doors here, one of which had been where his food and the handlers of that food had come out of, and returned to. He
wondered how large the train was to have the second door, but when they opened it, he understood.

Through the door was the narrowest of corridors that lasted to the end of car. There they moved into another narrow corridor, but this one was in the center of the car.

The corridor was a hallway, with doors on either side.

Three doors down the hallway Sanna opened a door and flagged the boy to enter.

Within the room was a bed and nothing else. The door slammed shut and Mickey heard the lock click.

Once again he was alone.

Mickey dug out the salt shaker, a handful of coffee creamer packets and fork he had hidden in other parts of his clothing.

He had no way of knowing if any of these things would help him escape, but he felt just a bit of triumph at getting them past the bad guys.

The knife had been what he wanted them to see.

In magic they call it “the distraction.” Nobody would think that he had taken anything else, since the knife was the obvious weapon. If he hadn’t so openly taken the knife they might have searched him for something else. Being seen as a silly, foolish child could have its advantages.

He poured the salt in the napkin he still held in his hand. He thought that the salt would be a good thing to hurl into someone’s eyes, and the shaker would be a good projectile. He would soon use the fork as a tool to unlock the door as he had taught himself to do long ago.

The coffee creamer, he knew, was highly flammable. It was used for pyrotechnical effects in films and fireworks displays.

Whether or not he got to use any of these weapons didn’t matter. At least, for the first time since he was taken, he had tools of his own to use. That, added to his own burgeoning ability with his powers, made
him pretty dangerous.

He would always rather be dangerous than be a victim.

If they were getting to their destination in less than an hour, he would have to escape soon.

But he knew they would be watching his locked door for at least a few minutes. Otherwise they wouldn’t have locked it.

So he sat on the bed and began to count off ten minutes.

Whatever happened, at least now he was doing something.

(c) 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

(no subject)

44.

It is amazing how meditative counting can be. It can push out all the most uncomfortable thoughts. Thoughts like danger and angst. Concern for distant loved ones and fear of what’s just beyond the door can be shoved away.

It also telescopes time. You reach a point where, no matter how many times you have timed your counting to assure its accuracy, you wonder if it can actually only have been 4 minutes since you began counting.

Mickey rose at 9 minutes and moved towards the door.

He listened with his ear to the wood, but could hear no movement or talk that would betray the nearness of anyone.

At 10 minutes he began pulling back the tine of the fork to create a small enough tool to begin the picking of the lock.

He had studied locks and knew the basic lock, of which this door obviously was one, had not changed substantially since the times of ancient Egypt.

If they were not electronic he was sure of his ability, given time, to rotate enough tumblers to open it.

It was even simpler that he had thought.

He turned the knob and peered out into the hall. There was a major muscle guy on one end of the hall, just standing there.

On the other end of the car Sanna leaned against the wall flirting with another bruiser.

Mickey suddenly realized why he had stolen the creamer. It had been in the back of his head, but he hadn’t remembered it. His mind flashed back to the times he had seen Sanna use her power, and, every time she had sent an electrical bolt at someone there had been something else. There was a tiny ring of sparks that circled her eyes. Like a pitcher who dips a shoulder just such a way before he throws a curve ball. Or like a poker player who unconsciously waves a “tell” before the other players, like touching his nose when he is bluffing.

There was going to be a ring of electrical sparks around her eyes the next time she used her power.

Mickey put the salt in his right hand, stuffed the napkin in his pocket, and then took the glob of creamer in his left hand.

He took a couple of deep breaths to get ready.

With his foot he pulled the already open door back, and bounded into the hall.

“Hey,” Came the shout of the guard at the far end of the hall.

Sanna and the other guard jumped into action also.

The first guy reached for Mickey and found salt in his eyes, and reacted violently to that. He then flew across the room and knocked himself out against the door.

Sanna raised her hand as she got close to the boy, and just as she was about to zap him saw him blow something out of his hand.

There was a zap and she saw a flash that blinded her. Her first reaction was to grab the kid and shoot more power into him than she had ever used before.

Mickey watched as the woman blitzed her companion into senselessness. He then realized he had never made her fly before, so he gave her the chance to fly blind. She didn’t get too far, but he couldn’t bring himself to cry.

He reached over to the guard who was the first to fall. In his hand was a rather formidable automatic weapon.

“Think of it as the best noisemaker ever,” Colonel Potter had once said to Hawkeye of a pistol. This would be an even better one the boy thought.

The rifle was lighter than it looked. It was made of a substance that looked like metal, but was much lighter. He doubted he would be able to lift one of these were it made of steel. This hefted much like a toy. He didn’t like to think of what that meant.

He wasn’t going to kill anyone, but he would be most of them would get out of his way. He wasn’t about to start killing people if he could help it, but he wasn’t going to let them kill him either. That fact that these armed guards were present showed him that this was not beyond the realm of possibility in their game plan.

He then reached into the man’s holster and pulled out his service pistol and considered taking it. He then decided, instead, to get rid of it. He didn’t want to become dependant on guns. Other than clearing the scene he didn’t want to use them anymore.

Nobody was cooler than McGyver.

He was dangerous enough with just his brain and his powers.

“Watch out, Mr. Cloud guy,” He said with bravado, but under his breath, “Here comes Mickey McCauley!”

(c) 2005 by C. Wayne Owens

Just a note to fans

Up to Date, Friday, 11 am
Today host Steve Kraske will talk with famed puppeteer, film director and actor Frank Oz and local puppeteer Paul Mesner. Oz is best known for his work with Jim Henson's Muppets but his most famous character is the diminutive Jedi Master Yoda from George Lucas' Star Wars series. Oz will be in town from July 7th to 9th to perform with the Paul Mesner Puppets.
On KCUR (http://www.kcur.org/)

(no subject)

45.

He wanted to kick the door open, but this one was metal and rather involved. He pulled the lever that opened it and took up his rifle again.

He pushed the door open and moved down the corridor that would take him back to the room where he had been delivered to the Cloud Creature, where he had watched the bogus video, watched the death of the
multimillionaire and where he had had a fairly good meal.

He closed the door behind him and tried for a moment to figure out how he could use the fork to jam it. When he couldn’t he decided that everyone back there would still be out for a few minutes and he would have to work within that timeline.

Unless he wanted to go back and shoot them all, of course.

He was glad to remember who he was and dismiss that possibility out of hand.

He moved town the hallway at a jog, dragging the gun behind him.

He stopped as he reached the final door.

This was it. He was at the edge of a real life action adventure.

He wished he was at home arguing with his brother over who got the last piece of pizza while they watched clunky science fiction movies from the 1950’s.

He decided that this was no time for musing, and grasp tightly to the gun in his hands.

He flipped what he was pretty sure was the safety, and reached to open the door.

Both he and the woman who opened the door from the other side were startled. It was the person he had thought of as “The Cook” and she looked as though she were expecting to die.

Mickey waved the gun for her to run, and she did.

He stepped forward into the room. He began a sweep of the entire room with the blasting explosion of bullets.

He was surprised at the small amount of recoil from the gun. He had expected to be knocked back to the wall, considering the World War II stuff he had read about machine guns. He then assumed that there must be some kind of chamber within the gun itself that acted as a buffer and absorbed most of the recoil. Pretty cool he thought as the blistering eruption spewed from his weapon.

He intentionally fired where there were no people, hoping by the time he reached anyone they would have run away or at least taken cover.

By the time the firing reached the Cloud Thing, there was no one in the room but the two of them. Mickey relaxed his finger on the trigger.

“Who do you think you are, BOY?” The creature roared.

Mickey deliberately trained the barrel on the beast, but didn’t shoot.

“Do you think you can scare me?” It growled.

“I think I may be able to kill you, but I’d rather not.” Mickey said with a confidence he wished he had.

The thing rose in the air and moved, ever so slowly towards him.

He, at once, decided that making the thing fly was not going to be in the battle plan.

“You will never be of use to me, so . . .” The being threatened.

Mickey pulled the trigger and sent a roaring column of flaming lead into the thing. It was unaffected.

Mickey thought he would at least stop the thing’s advance, so he levied his invulnerability power to the creature.

It didn’t fall to the ground, unable to move.

“Density,” The boy thought. Then he noticed that the forward movement had cease, as he continued to pour bullets into the area that might have been the thing’s chest.

It had gained enough density that the bullets could affect it.

Mickey strode forward as he continued to fire. He pushed the thing back into a wall. He felt as powerful as he had ever felt in his life.

The creature, pressed full on the wall, roared like a bull elephant ready to charge.

Then the gun ceased to fire. Mickey realized that he had emptied the clip. He might be able to change the clip, if he had known how, but not before the creature would be upon him.

The monster began to laugh as he had when he killed Vane.

Behind him a door crashed open and three thugs, along with a really ticked off looking Sanna, burst into the room.

On the other side of the room the action was repeated as another 4 gunmen entered, ready for battle.

The laughter stopped at once.

“Leave him,” The creature shouted, “He is mine.”

All the hired hands pulled back.

“We thought you might be worthwhile for us to have you,” The Cloud Being said as he moved towards the slowly retreating boy, “But, given no alternative, making sure the other side doesn’t have you is preferable.”

The thing enveloped Mickey and raised him off the ground.

Everything without the thing was muffled, and the boy found it hard to breath.

He wished he had had a chance to say good bye.

(c) 2005 by C. Wayne Owens