Hero Worship

4. Caught in Mid-Stream

4Caught in Mid-StreamThe feeling of wood hitting the side of his face pulled Billy back into reality. It was another full minute before he realized someone had not whacked him with some sort of wooden bat, as he’d first thought, but instead, he’d nose-dived onto the floor.

He could smell chemicals and a little polish, but mostly sidewalk dust carried in on a variety of shoes since the last time a dirty mop had been hauled across the floor. Despite the smell, he chose to lay there a little longer. The reception room rocked gently back and forth and he was losing a fight with nausea in his stomach.

The first spew of vomit surprised him, shooting from his mouth without any notice and with such force that it cast a decorative orange spray across the floor in front of him.

That was the juice he’d had on the Tube coming over.

He groaned and hoped the swaying room would settle quickly so he could get a hold of himself before the next gush. It didn’t, and a pulp of green and beige was ejected with a little less force. That was the spinach and potato samosa which he knew was a mistake even as he’d swallowed it down. The lumpy mess stuck in his throat and on the inside of his teeth, refusing to be spat out despite the frantic movement of his tongue inside his mouth to loosen its grip. He gagged, spitting again in an effort not to swallow the bitter mixture back down.

“Do you need a hand up?”

The voice came from above and vaguely to his right. He wasn’t too sure, though, as it seemed to echo, its location matching the motion of the room as it faded in and out. He didn’t attempt to reply.

“I know it’s tough, the transition. We expected that.”

The voice sounded again, but this time he could at least recognize it as belonging to Julie. She of the long flippy hair, the ample boobs, and shapely ankles. All of these things, though, held absolutely no interest for him as he lay on his side on the dirty puke-covered floor. It seemed an inopportune time to ask her on that date he’d been considering.

“When you’re ready, let me know and I’ll pull you up.”

“I-don-nee-ya-help!” His words were distorted by his open mouth pushed against the ground and a tongue that suddenly seemed far too big.

With a huge effort, Billy raised himself with both hands and twisted into a seated position. His right hand slipped slightly in the pool of orange vomit which now trickled back toward him along the grooves in the wooden planks of the two hundred-year-old floor. He was simultaneously disgusted and indifferent as all his focus went into forcing the room to stop its see-sawing movement.

He sat, staring at his knees for a moment listening to the clip-clop of Julie’s heels fade and return and was then surprised when a small white hand towel dropped in his lap. He grabbed at it gratefully and wiped his mouth and right cheek before cleaning up his hands.

“That’s better. All clean.” He could hear the smile in her voice and imagined her talking to a small child instead of a man of twenty-six. The humiliation was enough motivation to get him to his feet, so he grabbed the edge of the reception desk and heaved himself up.

Julie had repositioned herself behind the desk and stood to wait for him to focus on her. “Do you need a chair?”

Before he had a chance to provide a garbled answer, she rushed out from behind the desk wheeling her office chair in front of her. She nudged the back of his legs with it until he carefully, and gratefully, sat down, gripping the plastic arms with both hands, shoulders slightly hunched. He once again begged the world to stop spinning.

“The dizziness should pass in a minute or two. I’ll get you some water.”

Again with the mothering.

Julie poured a little water from the jug on the sideboard into a thin plastic cup and held it out to him. He grabbed the cup so hard he squeezed most of its contents on his lap before he could get it to his mouth, so after gulping the single mouthful that was left, she refilled it for him. This time, he took it more gingerly and swallowed, washing away the remains of the vomit on his tongue. The coldness of the water also seemed to settle his head a little, and he was finally able to focus on his surroundings.

The room was still—absolutely static.

A waiting patient sat in the corner like a statue. Her mouth was slightly open, the stretched pink gum between her teeth showing she was in mid-chew when the affliction had hit her. One hand held her right ear-bud away from her ear as though she was readjusting it or listening to something in the room rather than her music. The tinny sounds of a pop song still blasted full volume from her phone. Avril Lavigne, maybe. Strange. From her clothes he had her pegged as a metal-head.

Glancing around a little more, he noticed that the fish tank, which was full of rather apathetic Nemo-like fish, was also still. Bubbles from the air filter were caught mid-stream floating within the water. The fish themselves looked a little shocked as though captured doing something they shouldn’t. With their big round eyes and wide gaping mouths, they looked like little boys caught looking at their first porn magazines.

Billy turned back to Julie. “What the f**k is going on?”

“What do you remember?” Julie still wore a patient motherly expression, but had sat on the desk and crossed her legs at the knees to reveal some pasty white thigh. She gently bopped her legs up and down.

“I remember leaving the doctor’s office, saying goodbye to you, then… Then nothing!”

“Think again, Billy. Think hard.”

He was frustrated and wanted to pace, but the trembling in his legs still persisted. Instead, he clutched even more tightly to his chair. Digging at memories, he hissed, “You said something to me, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I told you to wake up.”

It flashed back, her strange statement that he couldn’t quite understand, and then he remembered. “There was a bright light!”

“Yes.” She nodded and smiled encouragement.

“Then I was on the floor—throwing up.” Billy scowled at the memory and glanced at the putrid mess that still gave off an obnoxious odor. “Did you hit me with something?” He glared at her and automatically put his hand up to the back of his head, looking for bumps or blood.

“No, I didn’t hit you, but you’re right about the light.” She paused, then leaned forward a little more eagerly. “I want you to think back further now, Billy. Much further. To a time when you could remember everything.” Julie looked as though she was watching the final stages of a horse race and urging on the unlikely dobbin she’d put all her money on.

Billy, on the other hand, was not seeing the finish line, playing ball, or any other sporting analogy. “For fucksakes, girl, just tell me! What am I supposed to remember?”

Julie sighed and sat more upright again. “I can’t tell you, hun. It doesn’t work that way. You have to remember. But you have time. I can keep the stasis going for a while longer.”

“This?” Billy pointed at the room, at the still-as-a-statue girl, and the caught-with-their-pants-down fish. “You’re doing this?”

“Yes.”

The room suddenly came into very clear focus for Billy for the first time since he’d woken up. Colors brightened and the lines around objects jumped out as though he was watching a three-dimensional movie. It felt like he could even—almost—see through things. What the f**k?

The chairs in the waiting room were morphing into the half-dead potted plants that littered the place, and the posters on the walls, warning of the signs of this disease and that, were no longer stuck on the wall but hung in mid-air.

Feeling queasy again, he gingerly pushed himself up from the chair. With his full weight on his feet, he tried to find his balance for a second time. He took a few unsteady steps. “I’m outta here.”

As Billy started toward the door, Julie called after him still maintaining her pleasant manner. “You won’t get far. Probably won’t even be able to open the door. It’s like I’ve created this protected space, a little snapshot in time and space that we’re trapped in right now. It’s a bit like treacle, all sticky and thick. But try if you want.”

He did. He pulled hard on the door that led to the outside, but couldn’t shift it. “Is this a spell?”

“Sort of. Strictly speaking, I don’t cast spells. It’s more a dimensional shift, if you like.” She shrugged, as though stopping time was the easiest thing in the world.

Billy suddenly backed up against the door like he was trying to let it absorb him. “Are you Jegudiel?” He knew the angel could take the form of inanimate objects, but could she take the form of a living breathing woman?

For a moment the skin puckered around Julie’s eyes and mouth, instantly adding ten years to her appearance. “I am not that bitch.” She glared and crossed her arms over her chest. “How could you even suggest such a thing, Billy?”

There was a little rumble in the air and the room gave a slight jump, blurring in and out of focus for a moment. It worried him. He was no physicist, but if the room suddenly shifted at the wrong time, couldn’t they all end up in a different universe? Would he be lost forever in a doctor’s waiting room, spinning through time and space like the TARDIS, but with no one at the controls? He didn’t fancy Dr. McKenzie’s chances at being the next Time Lord.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Calm down. I’m just confused.” He put his hands up in surrender.

Julie shrugged and flipped her hair a little, her annoyance apparently forgotten.

“Can you really not tell me who you are?”

She shook her head. “You have to remember, Billy. But I can say you’ve known me for a really long time. I know it’s hard, but focus.”

From out of nowhere, Billy had the desire to cry. A terrible sadness released a sob from his throat as he walked back, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor, and sat again on the office chair. He covered his face with his hands, not wanting to reveal his tears. Focus on what?

He found himself thinking again about Tazia. His friend. His would-be lover. The girl he’d made so many sacrifices for over the years and who’d accepted him completely. She’d never scoffed or criticized him or his weirder predilections. She’d just gently teased him about them, hugging him at the same time. He’d supported his girl for the last six years, dropping everything for her whenever she needed it.

And then it happened.

Billy didn’t only see Tazia in his mind, he felt her presence. Her energy buzzed, and looking up, he saw an image of her in front of him, as she would be right now in the room in the hospital.

The reception room was gone and, instead, there she was, sitting on her bed and staring at the window—not through it, at the glass itself. He couldn’t hear her, but could see her mouth moving as though she was speaking to someone.

Intrigued, he looked at the window. Instead of Tazia’s reflection, he saw the face of a thin pale woman with pointed features, a cascade of red hair streaked with silver-gray fell against the purple material of her clothing. Her face was pinched and her lips formed a thin smile.

Jegudiel!

“I have to save Taz,” Billy whispered. He’d said the simple statement to himself a thousand times before, but at this moment, in this place, apparently spinning in space, it meant so much more. “I have to save Taz!” And this time he looked at Julie, awaiting confirmation.

“Yes! What else?” Julie dragged a chair in front of Billy so they sat knee to knee, both leaning forward, concentrating hard.

He could feel her willing him on. Now, he ignored the tears, not caring who saw. “The angel has her. And if that ever happened, I needed to… wake up?”

Julie smiled broadly at him. “Keep going, hun, keep going!”

As Billy grasped for information he wasn’t even sure he possessed, his tears flowed hard and fast. But I do know it! There was something right at the back of his mind, knowledge he just needed to locate. Like a computer worm infiltrating one of his programs, searching out the data string that it was programmed to recognize and make its own.

That was him, Billy, he was that worm. He just had to find the back door. Tazia. Save. Tazia.

When the moment came, Billy wasn’t ready. He was still searching through all the memories he had of his friend, looking for the one that held the answer.

He found it in a conversation they’d had not five months earlier when they’d been in his flat preparing for her to go to Detroit to track down the Irish demon, Conn O’Cuinn. Billy had wanted to go with her, and they’d argued animatedly back and forth for a while. He’d said he could help if he traveled with her—protect her. But she wouldn’t hear of it.

Then, finally, he found the memory, and it tore his heart out.

Tazia had thanked him and told him just how much she wished she could be fully human so that she could really feel the gratitude toward him she knew was inside her. Until she could, she’d argued, all thanks sounded hollow.

“You’ve always been there for me, Billy,” she’d said. “My very own guardian angel. With balls, though. You’re my guardian angel with balls!” And she’d laughed loudly.

The moment came, and with it, Billy’s world came crashing in on him. He wasn’t human; he was an angel. Tazia’s angel. Not a guardian angel with a halo and fluffy white wings, but a bodyguard with a battle-ready body and a lion heart, sent here ready to protect her. To be here when she needed him, to love her and fight for her and, if need be, kill those who threatened her.

He was here to save her.

The shock of his awakening vibrated through the earth, and at that moment, he felt the angels in all the dimensions turn to look.

An old one—a Sleeper—was reborn.