Packing in a hurry is a surprisingly easy task, at least when you have a fairly simple wardrobe anyway.
T-Shirts, jeans, shorts, sweatshirts, underwear, sock, lots of socks, trainers, and a pair of hiking boots. There, that was the basics, now all I needed were the additional bits. Let’s see, a toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, soap, shampoo, razor, deodorant, shaving cream, a towel. That dealt with the necessary toiletries. What else was I going to need?
She’d said we were going to the countryside, and, for the most part, France was always hotter than England at this time of the year, and even as wet and cold as Britain could be, this July was already quite a scorcher. More than one childhood holiday had been ruined by sunburn, so . . .
Alright, so I would need a cap, lots of sunblock, my water bottle, anything else?
A passport was a given, and I had a couple of books that I’d been saving for a rainy day. For a moment I contemplated my laptop, but recalled what she said about us not being connected to the internet and dismissed it. Maybe a notebook and a few pens and pencils would be useful, and a packet of aspirin too. It was better to have some painkillers and not need them. I also threw in a couple of smart shirts and a pair of shoes, just in case.
Anything else? Was I forgetting anything?
Well, there was some stuff that I wanted but didn’t have, French money for example. Granted, my cards would work over in France if needs be, but having cash on hand is always a good idea. No, aside from stuff like that I was pretty much set. I glanced down at my watch, the whole thing only took me about twenty minutes. Impressive, just one bag and a small suitcase.
Joan had said to leave a note, but there was no way that I was going to just leave something written down and disappear. Chris and Doug would definitely find it strange, and I was sure they’d get in touch with my parents, maybe even the police, regardless of what I wrote.
As for my parents . . . There was absolutely no way I was just going to up and disappear on them. There was a flat zero possibility of them taking it lying down, more likely they’d be up in arms. I could see them hounding the cops to try and find me, hiring a private investigator, maybe even going so far as to seek out some sort of supernatural aid in this new world order to track me down.
Grabbing my mobile, I tapped home. I knew that they’d probably be in, they both arranged their schedules to leave the weekends free, and it had been that way for years. It was early afternoon, so Dad was probably working in the garage on whatever his latest project was, and Mum would be painting.
The phone only rang a couple of times before it was picked up.
“Hello, Adam?”
Amanda’s voice was easily recognizable, and I felt a relieved smile touch my mouth.
“Hi, Mum, I . . . listen, I need you to get Dad, this is important! I need to speak to you both!”
“Adam, is everything alright?”
The concern in her voice was easy to hear. With everything that had been going on, we were all a bit on edge.
“I . . . I don’t know, maybe? Look, get Dad, I’m kind of on a clock here, I don’t know how much time I’ve got.”
She didn’t ask any more questions, instead, I could hear her taking the phone through the house, the sound of a door opening, and then the sound of machines working wood. I heard Amanda’s voice calling dad, then the machines cut off and I could hear them both.
“Alright Adam, I’ve got you on loudspeaker so we can both hear you. Now, what’s going on?”
I paused for a moment, trying to get things straight in my head so that I could explain it clearly and concisely, but all that I could manage was:
“I’ve . . . got Joan of Arc downstairs in my living room. She says I’m a demigod, and I’ve got to go with her because people are hunting me!”
“What?!”
“Adam, are you safe? You’re not being threatened or anything, are you?!”
The explosive first question came from Amanda, but the concern for my well-being was Anthony’s immediate response. I supposed it made sense since on top of his enthusiastic fitness regimen my Dad also volunteered at a local homeless shelter. He’d seen some pretty nasty things, fights, assaults, even some suicide attempts in his time there. He was a bit more familiar with violence than your average schoolteacher.
“I’m fine, she’s fine, we’re fine!” I stumbled over my words, trying to reassure them. “I . . . look, she says that I’m a Legacy of Bath Kol, one of the big angels, and that I need to come with her.”
There was a pause, then Mum asked the question that I’d known would be coming.
“Do you think she’s telling the truth? Could this be a scam?”
That was one of mum’s things, even before the Black Sun. She’d been conned out of her savings when she was young and had taken it to heart. When the Black Sun brought out some of the worst kinds of conmen to take advantage of it, Amanda had been determined not to let any of us fall for any of them.
“Mum, she made a sword out of light and cut a tree down with it! Then she held the broken ends together and healed it back up. She’s got armour, real armour, not some prop, and I’m pretty sure that someone her size shouldn’t be able to lift a tree like that. No way!”
There was a pause as they heard that.
“Could she still be lying?” Amanda sounded unsure, but she was asking the question anyway. “Just because she has powers it doesn’t mean she has to be telling the truth. Could she be lying to . . . I don’t know, get you alone? To try to use you somehow?”
The point was a fair one. If you had supernatural powers and a lack of morals, then you could make a killing in such uncertain times. Just give a few demonstrations of your power and the gullible would be ready to do anything you said.
Still, I didn’t think that was the case here.
“Mum, she’s convincing. I mean, if she can lie that well and has powers like I saw, then she doesn’t need to be here conning me. She could be could find way bigger and richer fish to fry!”
I paused for a moment, then waved my hand, even though I knew they couldn’t see it.
“Plus, she’s got these feathers, she says they’re from an angel, and I believe her. They’re too . . . too white, too clean, too perfect, you know? And . . . I feel something from them, y’know? They make me feel something . . .”
There was another pause, then Anthony spoke.
“So, she’s saying that you’re a demigod?”
“Yeah, although since I’m descended from an angel, I think that makes me a Nephilim,” I replied. “Look . . . Joan says that I’m important. As in God, the big guy upstairs God, assigned her to keep me safe and help me get stronger. I . . . I can’t believe I just said that! Does it sound crazy to you? Because it sounds crazy to me! I’ve just said that God sent a soul down from heaven to take care of me, that . . . that’s not something a sane person should be saying, but that’s what this looks like!”
I think that by the end of my short speech I was actually babbling a little, the full absurdity of my situation looming over me like . . . like . . . I wasn’t even able to think of a good metaphor for it, that was how overwhelmed I felt.
“Adam! Adam, calm down! Take a deep breath, alright? Come on, let me hear it! A deep breath!”
Amanda’s voice broke through my increasingly panicked thoughts, and almost on instinct, I followed her instruction, inhaling deeply and loudly enough that they could hear it over the phone.
“Good, now hold it . . . Hold it . . . hold it . . . and let it out!”
I think it must have been working because I could feel my anxiety recede, still there but no longer swamping me, threatening to drown me.
“Okay, and again Adam! In . . . out. In . . . out.”
After a couple more breaths I was back in control, enough to look at the phone that I’d set on my desk.
“Okay, I . . . I think I’m better. Sorry, it . . . it just kind of hit me, you know? That . . . that this is happening!”
“Adam, if you weren’t freaking out then I’d be worried,” Dad said. “Look . . . I’ve always wondered what would happen if we found out anything about your birth family. I mean, I’ve imagined everything from them being crooks to some insanely rich foreigners you were kidnapped from. I’ve thought that they might try to take you away, that we might have to protect you from them, that you might want to go with them, but I’ll admit, I never thought of this.”
He paused for a moment, then continued.
“It doesn’t matter, you understand? You can be descended from an angel, a god, a demon, or a celestial turtle for all I care, it doesn’t make any difference, you’re my son, and nothing changes that.”
I . . . I hadn’t even thought of that, not in the rush of everything else. Still, even though it hadn’t crossed my mind I couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief at his words. The thought that being a demigod would repulse my parents . . . that they might turn me away . . . it was the sort of thing I’d had nightmares about when I’d been a child. That they’d suddenly decide I wasn’t good enough, that they’d somehow have a child of their own and decide I wasn’t needed, that they’d go to the orphanage and find a better child one that would take my place. In the light of day, such thoughts seemed foolish, but in the night, alone in my bed, those thoughts had been able to make me shiver and sweat.
“So . . . what does she want to do?”
His question brought me back to the matter at hand.
“She says we’ve got to go somewhere more protected,” I explained. “She wants to take me to go somewhere that she’s got ready for this. Then there’s going to be some ritual to help get my . . . my divine blood going, get me my powers so I can defend myself. After that . . . well, I don’t know.”
“So, she couldn’t give you a straight answer about how long this would be?” Amanda asked.
I blinked at that, replaying the conversation that we’d had in my head.
“No . . . no she didn’t,” I admitted. “She mentioned getting somewhere secure, and the ritual taking a couple of weeks to set up so I can get my powers, but after that . . .”
“So . . . it could be weeks or even months for all we know?” Dad commented.
Silence hung in the air after that, an unwelcome addition to the conversation as we each tried to think of something else to say.
“Do you really need to leave? Isn’t there somewhere closer that you could do this?”
I shook my head at Amanda’s question, even though I knew she couldn’t see it.
“No. Joan says there are gods and demons looking for me. They could find me like she did. If I stay here then she’ll try to protect me, but they’ll fight. Hell, maybe they’ll fight each other, and if they do, then things are going to be way worse than that thing that happened with the angel and demon fighting!”
That incident . . . it had been bad, but nowhere near as bad as it could have been. The two supernaturals had been fighting up in the air, away from the buildings and people, so most of the damage had been caused either by the shockwaves of their clash, like the ones that had hurt me, or by people getting so caught up in the sight of them that they did something by accident, as was the case with some drivers. There’d been some crashes, some people injured, but thankfully no deaths, at least not at the time. I remembered what that hooded girl had told me about people dying later, but there hadn’t been any mention of it in papers or the news, so I hoped that no one had suffered from that.
I was no expert on angels and demons. But what I did know told me that those two had been far from being heavy hitters. I didn’t want to see what would happen if stronger beings, like gods of war or demonic nobility, decided to come looking for me. I liked my neighbourhood, and I especially liked it when it wasn’t on fire, or simply a blasted wasteland.
“Do you think she’s right?”
“Mum, I don’t know anything. Joan’s the one telling me all this. But . . . I think she’s being sincere. I mean, if she wanted to make me go with her there’s no way I could stop her, I don’t think.” I paused for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts. “Look, I wish I had some more time to try and work this out, but she says that we’re on a timer, her finding me makes it easier for the others looking for me to find us. I’m . . . I’m going to take a leap of faith here, because . . . I can’t see any reason she could be lying!”
Actually, that wasn’t strictly true. I could think of several reasons why she could be making things up. I knew that free will was a big deal in the supernatural world, and there were lots of things you couldn’t do to someone by force. That was why demons made deals because they needed mortals to give up their souls willingly, freely, that was the only way to subvert the protection on them.
Could that be what was going on? Was the ritual to get me my supposed powers just a way for me to sign my soul away? Maybe?
Honestly, I didn’t think that I had to worry about Joan trying to pull that kind of trick on me. There was just something about her, about the way she spoke of God with such absolute faith and certainty, that I couldn’t conceive of being less than completely honest.
Regardless, I wasn’t going to tell them that. I hardly wanted to burden them with more worries than I was already laying at their feet.
“I’m going,” I confirmed. “I don’t really think there’s any other choice, right? If I stay here . . . if she’s right, then people are going to get hurt. If I go with her then at least I’ll be able to find out one way or another if she’s telling the truth. And if she’s lying . . . I don’t know, I’ll try to get away I guess.”
“Are you sure about this, Adam?”
Dad sounded unusually, but understandably, serious.
“Yeah,” I said. “I . . . look, I’m really out of my depth here, but I think I can trust Joan. I mean, she’s got lots of stuff on her side that seems to be legit. Magic powers, the feathers of an angel, devotion to god, and if she’s faking all of that then . . . I’d better give up because she’s just too good for me to beat.”
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That last bit was said more in humour than anything else, but there was a bit of truth to it. if this really was a con then it was clearly too clever for me.
“. . . Is she pretty?”
Mum’s question brought my thoughts to a screeching halt.
“Huh?”
“This girl, Joan, is she pretty?”
“I . . . yes?”
“Ah, well that might explain some of it.”
It was at that point that I discovered for certain that it was indeed possible for someone to convey a smug smile over the phone.
“Mum!”
This was something of a running thing between me and Mum, namely my general lack of ability to say ‘no’ to a pretty face.
I don’t know why, but the fact that she was able to bring this up now, despite the severity of the situation, was comforting.
“Oh, let your mother dream, Adam.”
The humour in Anthony’s voice was easy enough to hear, and it caused the small smile on my face to spread a bit further. More than that though, it was a sort of unspoken message that they were alright with me going with Joan. Well, maybe they weren’t quite ‘alright’, but they were offering me their support.
“Look, I don’t know how long this will be, but I’ll try and send you guys a message as soon as I can, let you know what’s happening, okay?”
“Adam,” Mum’s voice was firmer now, more serious, but still as kind as ever. “I won’t lie and say I’m not worried, but I trust you. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. If . . . if you think that this is the right course to take, then you should take it.”
“Agreed,” Dad chimed in. “But just to be on the safe side, do you still have those knuckles I got you?”
That almost made me burst out laughing. The knuckles he was referring to were a set of brass knuckledusters that he’d given me on my nineteenth birthday as something of a joke gift. I’d only ever used them one time, and not very successfully.
The idea of using them on Joan though . . . it was farcical. I was more likely to break my hand than I was to do her any harm.
“Okay Dad, I’ll take them with me.”
I assured him, as I reached over to open a drawer and pulled them out. Sure, I didn’t expect them to be of any use, but they made for a decent lucky charm, and something told me that luck was something that I was going to need plenty of soon enough.
Glancing down at my watch I was surprised at how much time had passed. Joan hadn’t given me a limit on my time, but she’d implied that the less taken the better it would be.
“Listen, I’ve got to go!” I hated having to cut things short, but I still had to try and reach my housemates. “I’m on a clock here, and I’ve still got the get in touch with Chris and Doug. I . . . I’ll try and get back to you guys as soon as I can, but I don’t know how long that’ll be!”
“It’s alright, Adam,” Amanda assured me. “You go where you need to, you do what you need to. Just promise to keep yourself as safe as you can so we can see you again!”
“I love you, Mum.”
I said it without really thinking about it, words straight from the heart.
“Hey, what about me?”
A small chuckle escaped my lips before I could answer Anthony’s joking question.
“Well, I guess I can put up with you too.”
There was an answering chuckle from the other end of the phone, a warm sound that I was familiar with.
“I love you, son, we both do.”
“I love you too.”
For a moment that was it, there wasn’t really any more to say. Then I had to end the call.
“Goodbye. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Goodbye.” That was Amanda.
“Goodbye.” And that was Anthony.
“Goodbye!”
Realizing I was repeating myself I pressed the end call button, even though I didn’t really want it to end.
Right, I still had to let my housemates know what was going on. Sure, as things stood, they’d be able to get the heads up from my family, but it had to be something more personal.
I first tried to ring Chris, only to hear his phone ringing in his room where he must have left it behind. Given how much he loved it I guessed it had been an accident. If Chris was so eager to meet this girl that he forgot to take his cell phone with him then maybe she was going to be the one to finally stick around. One could only hope, too bad I wouldn’t be around to find out.
Failing to get hold of Chris I tried my luck with Doug next. This time when the phone rang, I couldn’t hear it in the house, so that was a plus. Unfortunately, the thing kept on ringing without an answer, and eventually, I heard a click, followed by Doug’s pre-recorded message.
Rather than speak I hung up. It just didn’t seem right to tell them about it in a message. This was too important, so just leaving a message . . . no, not an option.
Sitting down at my desk I grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write on it. Something like this, something written by my hand, in my handwriting, would be more personal, more distinctive.
Dear Chris and Doug,
First off, I’m sorry that I have to tell you guys like this, I tried to phone you, but I couldn’t get through and leaving a message felt wrong, so I figured writing here was my next best option. I’m having to leave at very short notice, so I don’t have too much time to work with, but I thought you should know the reasons why . . .
It was a decent start, and I was soon on a roll.
The letter itself took longer to write than getting packed did, though I suppose that wasn’t really saying much. It was a bit rushed, but I thought that I managed to get down all the important details. I explained what had happened, that my parents had more details, and I was very clear that I was most certainly NOT being duped. I’d seen her create a sword of light, I’d seen her cut down the tree, and I’d seen her put it back together afterwards. This was no trick.
I also wrote that they had to keep quiet about this. My leaving didn’t do anything to keep them safe if they started shouting to the world about their housemate being a demigod and leaving with Joan of Arc.
Taking a deep breath, I finished the letter. I just had to roll with the punches and deal with what came.
. . . worry, I will get through this, and I will be back. Until then stay safe, you got me?
Wish me luck, Adam.
Signing the letter, I folded it in two, then put Chris and Doug’s names on the outside. I hoped that it would be enough to reassure them, they were a surprisingly reliable pair of friends to have. Normally that was a good thing, but in this case, trying to help or find me could end badly. At best they’d be wasting energy, at worst they might manage to somehow track me down, only to be dragged into whatever mess I was in, and without the prospect of getting superpowers out of it.
I left the letter propped up on the little table at the top of the stairs, where we often charged our phones. They’d see it there, of that, I was completely certain.
Stepping back into my room I took a final look around. I suddenly felt my stomach clench, aware of so many little things I was going to miss. That stack of DVDs that I’d accumulated over the last year, but had never gotten around to watching. The small cactus Chris had given me as a housewarming gift. The little Egyptian statue my grandfather had bought me as a present. So many little things, I was suddenly unsure if I was ever going to get the chance to see them again.
No! I couldn’t let myself start to think like that. I had very little idea of what was going on, and I had even less of an idea as to what was going to happen after my so-called ‘divinity’ got woken up, but I couldn’t let that drag me down. I had to keep moving, standing still is rarely the best thing you can do.
. . . Except when you’re facing a T-Rex, at least according to Hollywood, but that wasn’t important.
Dismissing my rambling thoughts, I made my way downstairs.
“I would have thought that you would have wished to bring more than that. I did say that it might be days or weeks before you could return, did I not?” Joan commented as she met me at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m not too much into having loads of clothes,” I explained, “This’ll be more than enough to last me a couple of weeks, and if you’ve got a washing machine then there’ll be no problems.”
Her head tilted slightly, and a mildly concerned look crossed her face.
“I made sure to have soap and such amenities as hot running water and plumbing ready, but I confess that the notion of a washing machine never crossed my mind. There is a washing board and a large metal tub, so with the hot water it should be no issue to wash your clothes.”
You know, that was almost as convincing as the sword of light had been in making me sure that I really was dealing with Joan of Arc here. Until she’d said that the thought of washing my clothes any other way than in a washing machine had never even crossed my mind. How did a washing board even work? It sounded like I was going to find out at some point though. That was going to be ‘fun’.
“You have left the note that you spoke of?”
I just nodded in reply, and Joan flashed me a kindly smile.
“I am sorry you have to do this, but I promise that it is necessary. Not only is it to keep you safe, but it will also keep those that share this home with you safe. If those that sought you had found you here, they would most likely have been uncaring of what others might have been trampled on their way to you.”
I nodded. Yes, that was part of the reason I was going, to make sure they would be safe. After all, if I ended up leading demons to their doorstep Neither Chris nor Doug would ever let me hear the end of it. With me gone then those looking for me . . .
. . . Would come here anyway. After all, they were tracking Joan, so then they’d come here as they followed whatever trail they left.
“Won’t they come here anyway?!” The question almost burst out of me. “They’ll follow you’re trail, and then they’ll come here. My friends will be in danger anyway, won’t they?”
“Don’t worry; I have a plan for that.”
Her confidence was clear, and it eased some of my concerns. Not all of them though, and that was starting to wear on me.
The worst part of all this was the almost total lack of control I seemed to have over just about anything. I wasn’t making any real decisions in this; rather I was just being swept along. Sure, I had chosen to go with Joan, I had chosen to believe her, and I had chosen to get packed and ready, but really that wasn’t so much a choice as it was just falling in line. I . . . I simply couldn’t make any impact on the flow of events, not yet. It was an unpleasant truth, but one that I had to face.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed up the suitcase again and met Joan’s gaze.
“Alright, I’m good to go.”
“Very well,” she nodded in response, opening the main door and stepping out of the house. “If you will join me over there, we can get going.”
To my confusion, she pointed to the road just in front of my home. As far as I could see the only distinctive quality that it possessed was that it was a very open area. It was fairly quiet, especially at that time of the day. Unsure of what else to do, I stood in the spot indicated and waited.
“Alors, it is time to go.”
Joan said it as she looked up and down the road, following her glance, I saw there was no one about I wondered what she was going to do that she didn’t want other people to s-
I was cut off in mid-thought as Joan clasped her hands together, the fingers interlacing as though in prayer, and her shoulders tensed visibly, even through the armour she wore. What came next left me gsping in shock.
Great white wings burst out of her back in an explosion of feathers that momentarily made it seem as though snow was falling about us. More than that was the change that came over Joan as the beautifully alabaster pinions flexed behind her. She became . . . more, that was the only word I could think of. Everything about her seemed to be magnified, enhanced. She was taller, broader, more imposing, her very presence was stronger. More than that though, her very appearance took my breath away, and for a moment I felt my knees weaken as I looked at her.
Joan had seemed very pretty, beautiful even, but it was the kind of beauty that I saw in fashion magazines, or on television adverts. Now . . . now I had no words for it. Her hair was still short, her face was still strong, her eyes were the same colour, but she was so lovely I could feel my heart beginning to pound in my chest. I opened my mouth to say something, anything really, but found it to be suddenly dry, my tongue sticking in place, unable to form words.
As I stood there, no doubt looking like some sort of gawking idiot, she flexed the wings she had just acquired. Seemingly in response to the movement, a bright yellow dot of light appeared above her head. The dot moved in a small circle there, leaving a trail of light until it returned to where it had begun and merged into the trail it had left. For a moment or two, I just blinked at it stupidly, unable to get my brain to connect the image with any concept that I knew of. Then, as though something finally clicked into place, I realized what it was.
A halo.
Joan had wings, and a halo.
Joan had become an angel.
Angels were rarer than gods, but they were an accepted part of the world now. I’d watched the few videos on the internet that caught them, and then there was the infamous ‘Interview with an Angel’ that had become one of the most watched recordings in the world virtually overnight. The angels were larger than life beings that were generally regarded as benevolent since they fought against the demons. But they were also regarded with a certain amount of fear due to their considerable power and their intolerance for what they deemed as ‘evil’.
Angels were beings of Heaven, soldiers that served the will of God directly. There was a lot of debate over whether angels were stronger than gods, but ultimately it all came down to which god and which angel was in question.
And now I had one standing in front of me.
Suddenly I felt a good deal better about trusting her. I mean, sure, this wasn’t a one hundred per cent confirmation of all she’d said, but it was a pretty enormous addition in her favour.
“Are you ready?”
Even her voice was different, clearer, more resonant, yet at the same time lilting and soothing. It was the kind of voice I would have paid money to listen to, even if it was just reading me a washing machine instruction manual.
With those thoughts rolling around inside my brain, the best I could manage was a nod that was probably closer to a stunned bobble.
“Good.”
She smiled at me, and for a moment it was as though the sun was coming out from behind the clouds on a cold day and I was suddenly warm again. I was so entranced by the sight that I almost missed what happened next.
Almost.
Joan made a gesture, and suddenly I was inside a . . . a bubble? Yes, it was a transparent globe, and I was inside it. It was easily big enough for me to stand in and spread my arms and not touch the sides. It was coloured the same vibrant yellow as the halo that had appeared over her head, and the world outside was now tinged yellow. Glancing down I saw that I was still standing on the tarmac, the underside of the bubble seemingly disappearing underground. Not quite believing what I was seeing I leant forward and touched the tips of the fingers of my left hand to the surface.
It felt like I was touching glass, there was no give there at all. Experimentally I tapped on it, but rather than sounding like a pane of glass it was more like I’d rapped my knuckles against the side of a solid stone cliff.
I looked out at Joan, ready to ask her why she’d put me in what amounted to a giant upturned fishbowl, but I never got the chance. She made another gesture, as though she was asking someone that had been sitting to stand, and suddenly the world around me lurched. I fell over, but it wasn’t due to experiencing any sort of jolt or shake. As far as I was concerned the ground beneath me had remained rock solid. It was the sudden shift in the world outside the bubble that had caught me by surprise.
Regaining my feet, I looked down to see that the concrete I had been standing on was now inside the bubble with me, but outside I could see a large missing chunk of the road. The spot I’d been standing on was now in the bubble with me.
I wanted to say something, anything really, but my mouth simply didn’t want to work. All I could do was gape like some sort of fish as Joan rose into the air, and the globe I was in followed her. Some small part of me noted that the Maiden of Orleans was not using her wings to lift herself, there was no flapping on their part. Instead, she simply rose into the air in defiance of gravity, her movements directing the globe I was in to move with her.
It was at about that point that my somewhat beleaguered brain finally managed to connect some dots. Fact one; Joan said we were going to France. Fact two; I was currently inside a bubble that was levitating into the air. Fact three; Joan was flying next to it. When you added these various titbits together what you got was . . .
My realization came at about the same time that Joan turned away from me and looked off in a direction which I must assume was southeast. I just had enough time to open my mouth, but even if I had managed to regain my voice it would have been too late by then.
Both Joan and the bubble I was in, shot off into the sky like a rocket taking off. So fast that I fell to my knees and stared over the edge and down at the ground that was falling away at an unbelievable rate. I could feel my blood thundering in my ears and my heart pounding in my chest. The world seemed to swim before my eyes as I rose higher and higher, darkening at the edges.
I think at his point I should share a rather important fact, namely that I’m deathly afraid of heights.
I’m not so bad with relatively small heights, say four or five stories. I can be in a tall building and be fine if I’m on the roof and looking down. It’s when getting to greater heights, like cliffs, skyscrapers, and planes, that things get dicey. As soon as I look down from those sorts of heights, I can feel my rationality begin to crumble apart. In the past I’ve suffered hyperventilation, panic attacks, totally locking up, and just flat out passing out.
I’d managed to figure out some tricks to get around this, I had to if I wanted to go on my trips abroad. Cruises are nice, but slow and expensive. If I wanted to get to places like America, Japan or Australia then flight was really the only way to go. It had taken a bit of experimentation, nerve-wracking experimentation, but I’d been able to work some stuff out. For example, I didn’t really have too much of a problem actually riding in a plane, not so long as I couldn’t see out of a window enough to see the ground. If I was in one of those big jumbo jets then I could sit in a seat in the middle and pretend that rather than flying kilometres up in the air I was simply on a large coach or something like that. It wasn’t comfortable, there were times when I had to start breathing into a paper bag to calm down, but as long as I was careful, I could avoid any serious panic attacks.
This . . . this was so much worse that I might as well have been strapped to the outside of a jet plane taking off! Before I knew it I had curled up on the small patch of concrete that was serving as the floor to my bubble and was doing little more than shivering with fear and struggling to regain some sort of control.
Still, the human mind can only sustain an emotional intensity for so long, and after a while, I felt the horrible fear begin to lessen slightly, at least enough for me to take a look around.
This might not have been the smartest move, because the first things I saw around me were clouds. Not the little wispy ones that can come down pretty low; these were the enormous puffy white ones that look like they’re made of castle-sized clumps of cotton wool. That was when it hit just how high up I was.
The smart thing to do would have been to just shut my eyes as tight as I could and just sit on the chunk of pavement until I was back on good old terra firma. However, a manic sort of curiosity drove me to do something that I soon regretted.
I looked down.
And down.
And still further down.
My mind pretty much stopped working at that point. I was vaguely aware of the world spinning around me. All I could do was stare down, down at a world so distant that the houses were tiny dots, roads mere lines on the land. So far, so far away . . .
I think it was at about that point that my poor abused grey matter finally decided to simply call it quits. It had taken shock after shock, been forced to race, then stop, then race again, and now it was being faced with a scenario that until now had only existed in my deepest nightmares. After all that I guess it just decided that enough was enough. It didn’t want to have to deal with this anymore.
Simply put, I passed out.