An undetermined (at first anyway) time later, I came back to consciousness. I found that I was laying on my back, staring up at the ceiling in the same room where I had previously been standing, looking at my body in the mirror.
My thoughts were at first a jumbled mass of random words in dozens of different languages. Even worse, random images flooded my memories, but none lasted so long as to provide any kind of context. Looking back at those first few moments now, I know that I was trying to sift through and sort out my own human memories from the fractured, frenetic half-memories of a creature that had existed for centuries, if not milennia.
As things began to sort themselves out in my extremely cluttered and confused mind, I was able to think in English again, and finally began to formulate some semi-coherent thoughts.
“Who am I?”
That was my very first coherent thought. I didn’t however, realized that I had voiced that question out loud until I heard a chuckle and the answer to that question voiced by a male voice I didn’t immediately recognize. The voice came from a tall figure leaning up against the far corner of the room I was lying in.
“You are Special Agent Rusty Bones of the FBI.”
“Funny, I couldn’t recall my own name. Very well, who are you then?” I was so dazed from what had just happened that I wasn’t cognizant enough to actually be surprised. Curiosity was about all i could muster at the moment. I didn’t even lift my head to get a better look at the figure.
“I am a benefactor fo yours, you have met me before and will remember me as Zulu.”
“That’s a strange name for someone as pasty white as you. Why would I know you as Zulu?”
“Because that is what I have asked you to call me. You will likely remember my actual name soon enough, but Zulu is the code name I have chosen to be called by and to be referred to as in your various writings, most especially in your blog.”
I was trying to fathom what language the word ‘blog’ came from and what association I had with any such thing when he continued.
“The most important question you should be asking of yourself, and perhaps of me as well, is ‘What happened?’”
“OK, I’ll bite. What happened?” I was starting to regain the ability to move my limbs, so I figured it was a good time to prop myself up on my elbows and look at this mysterious, immaculately dressed white man called Zulu.
He smiled, a very charming and disarming smile if I have ever seen one, before he answered. “That, my friend, is a very good question. I have pieced together bits of puzzle from various sources, including from your associates who helped you to defeat the monsters below New York City and from your notes here in this vehicle. I have also gathered additional information from listening to your cries and ravings as you lay there unconscious.
“I must say that it is still quite confusing however. From all that I have gathered, it appears that you were infected by some sort of disease or some strange remnant of the creature you had slain under the ruins of 9/11. It appears that your struggle with whatever it was has been won for the moment.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I have been here for parts of the last three days.”
“Three days! Is that how long I have been down?”
“Oh, I believe you have been in this state for a couple of days before I came. I was not made aware of your situation until three days ago, but I came as soon as I did become aware that you were in danger.”
I sat up fully now. I pulled my reluctant legs into a cross legged sitting position and looked at my hands. They felt all numb and tingly. A sensation that I could not recall having for a very long time. “How did you learn that I was in trouble?”
He stood up from leaning against the corner and came a little closer. “The Bureau heard about it first when the reports of the unearthly screaming coming from this vehicle were reported by other patrons here at this park. When the park looked up your registration to the vehicle, they found that the Bureau owned the plate and contacted them. When SAIC Murphy came out to investigate, he apparetnly didn’t have the stomach to break into your vehicle and see what was happening, not that I blame him all that much. He ordered the park to be evacuated and secured the perimeter. He then contacted me through an intermediary and asked me to look into the matter.”
“I don’t remember screaming or causing any kind of commotion!”
“Ah, but you did sir. Your thrashings and your tortured screams and incoherent rantings easily outperformed any Hollywood production of an exorcism that I have seen anyway. I am quite glad to be taking these things out of my ears just now.” He reached up and pulled a set of cotton balls from his ears. “Yes. Much better.”
Things were coming back to me as we were talking. I was having flashbacks of being in front of the mirror and holding something dark and...wriggly?
(To be continued)
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
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