Flash 01: Out Of The Blue

"Are you allergic to cats?" she asked.

"Is that an invitation?" I asked in response. She smiled at that.

"Well, let's just say you do have options," she said. "I happen to have a spare room that's empty at the moment. And no, I don't have a boyfriend." Somehow, I already knew that, but it felt good hearing it from her anyway.

"I'll keep that in mind, Lucy," I said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said. She pulled out a card and wrote her phone number and address on the back. "I'll put this in your wallet, just in case I don't get to see you before you leave tomorrow. My shift starts a bit later tomorrow than normal. I do hope to hear from you sometime soon," she added with a smile.

"However things work out, I'll let you know," I promised.

"Thank you," she said. "My shift is about over, so I have to get going. I hope to see you tomorrow, but if I don't, please call. Even if it's just to say hello."

"I will," I said. She looked around to make sure no one could see her, then gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Get some rest, okay? Sweet dreams," she said as she stood. I watched her leave the room and wondered what she looked like under her scrubs. At that moment, I realized that things would work out for me, no matter what happened with Ginger.

Speaking of the devil, she strode in about 5:45 pm. She smiled as she came to the side of the bed. I had a difficult time looking at her, since there appeared to be three of her, one blue, one red and one green. Nevertheless, I tried to focus on her as she came to my side.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better," I said. "Thanks for asking. I'll be going home tomorrow morning sometime. Mom and Dad are picking me up, so there's no need for you to take a day off."

"Oh," she said, acting surprised that I was coming home so soon. Or was it disappointment? She reached down and took my right hand. I felt a shock, but not as bad as the previous day. She didn't seem to notice it. But something happened when she held my hand. It was as if her memories were being dumped into my head, almost like a computer data backup.

It didn't take very long, maybe a few seconds at most. When the "dump" was complete, my mind was filled with memories not mine. It felt strange having her memories in my head like that. I shook my head to clear it and looked back up at her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Uh, yeah," I said.

"Maybe you should stay another day or two," she said. I shook my head. I knew what she wanted -- more sack time with Chad Fucking Wheeler, the rich SOB with the fancy European car. No way.

"No, I'm healing up fine," I said. "I need to get home, start getting back to a normal life."

"I'm concerned that you may be pushing yourself too hard," she said, trying to sound concerned. I knew the truth, however. She wanted more "alone" time with her lover. In my bed. I shook my head.

"I'll be okay. I can't heal laying here in this hospital," I told her. After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, with Ginger nervously fidgeting with her purse, I spoke to her one more time. "Look, I can tell you'd rather be someplace else than here. Hell, I'd rather be somewhere else. Why don't you just go. I'll talk to you later."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, just go," I said, looking anywhere except at her.

"You can't even look at me, can you?" she asked.

"It actually hurts to look at you. I can't explain it. Just go, we'll talk later."

"Are we finished, Cam?" she asked, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"What do you think, Ginger?"

"Have I really been that bad a wife to you?"

"You really want me to answer that?" I asked. "Let me show you something." I grabbed my phone and pulled up my videos. I showed her the video I took of her in the sports car. She gasped and brought one hand to her mouth.

"You... You saw that?" she asked. I nodded my head.

"Yeah," I said. "I was in a company truck right next to you. I'm assuming the driver is Chad. Am I right?"

"Yes," she finally said. I nodded my head.

"What would you think if it were me in the driver's seat of that car and another woman was doing what you were doing? Hmm?"

"I'd be mad as hell," she said.

"Yeah, I know. How long has it been going on with him?"

"A few months now," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Can the excuses, Ginger," I said. "The sex was bad enough. It's the lies, the disrespect you've shown me over the last few months. The threats and the insinuations. When I saw you in that car, I had had it. The day I got hit by lightning, I had just come from speaking with a lawyer."

"A lawyer?" she asked, shocked. "What did you see a lawyer about?"

"Well, you normally see a lawyer when you want a divorce," I told her.

"But I don't want a divorce," she cried.

"Your actions say otherwise. Don't worry. I haven't filed... yet." She breathed a sigh of relief at that.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," I said. "But something has to be done. I can't live like this any longer."

"We can get through this, Cam," she said. "I really do love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"The problem is, Ginger, I don't trust you. And I don't believe you. I've caught you in multiple lies already. God only knows how many others you've told me these last few months. Have you been with Chad since I've been in the hospital?" She looked down at the floor, not saying anything. "I think I have my answer. Please, just go before I get too upset. We'll talk about all this later."

I could sense a gamut of emotions running through her -- shock at being found out, hurt that I might actually divorce her, or worse, sadness at the loss of my love. Tears started running down her face as she turned for the door. She stopped and looked back at me one last time.

"I'll be waiting for you at home, Cam," she said. "Alone. I promise." For a moment, her image came into focus and I believed her. "I'm through with Chad and his bullshit," I heard her say in her mind. She spoke one last time before leaving. "I have to work tomorrow, you know. We have a big project that we're finishing up, but I'll come straight home after work and we can talk, okay?" I sensed no deception in her, so I nodded my head.

"I'd like that," I said. She gave me a smile and then left. I laid back in the bed wondering what in the hell just happened. Not only with my marriage, but with me. On top of all the strange changes I had gone through, now I have all these memories jumbled in my mind.

I didn't have very long to think about it when I heard a knock at the door. I looked up to see Bill Collins, an old friend from way back. We had known each other since grade school. Like me, he worked at Apex, but he was what the company called a "Customer Service Representative." That's a fancy title for "salesman."

He was damn good at his job, though, making six figures with salary, commissions and bonuses. Unfortunately, a lot of that went to his ex-wife and the place he used to call home. He caught his wife having sex with her boss in his marital bed and filed for divorce.

He got screwed, royally, thanks to his wife's lover being a senior partner with a large legal firm. He was falsely accused of all sorts of things, from mental cruelty to physical and even child abuse. By the time the smoke cleared, he was left with less than half of his marital assets, half of his accrued retirement and just under half of his earnings. He narrowly escaped going to jail over the false claims his wife and lover made against him.

He fought the claims, but the defamation lawsuits never went anywhere. Now he was stuck paying "maintenance" to his wife, a ton of money in child support and the mortgage on the house he used to call home. Making matters worse, he was only permitted a couple hours of supervised visitation every couple weeks.

His wife did let him have a travel trailer he bought to take the family out on camping trips. It was a pretty good-sized unit and slept four people comfortably. He set it up at a local RV park just outside of town, and he still calls it "home."

The whole experience made him a bitter man, though, especially where women are concerned. "Find 'em, fuck 'em, forget 'em" became his motto. Relationships, he once told me, were a waste of time and effort.

"Hey, Cam," he said as he poked his head in the door. "How're you feeling?"

"I've been better," I told him.

"Your folks said they're taking you home tomorrow, so I thought I'd stop by and see ya." He looked at me funny for a moment. "What the hell happened to your eyes?"

"A side effect of the lightning," I said.

"Damn," he said. "So, how's things going?"

"Could be better," I said. Bill listened quietly as I told him about Ginger. He shook his head.

"Damn, Cam, I thought she was the real deal. I'm so sorry to hear that," he said. I nodded my head in agreement. "Bitch has to die," I heard him say. But his lips never moved.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, shocked. He looked at me, surprised.

"I didn't say anything," he said.

"I thought I heard you say she has to die," I told him.

"I may have thought it, but I never said it. Don't tell me you can read minds now," he said.

"I've been hearing all kinds of strange things. Don't say anything to anyone, please. I'm hoping it goes away."

"Mum's the word, pal. No one will ever hear anything from me. But you need to do something. If you don't, everyone will see you as a wimp and a cuckold," he said.

"I know," I told him. "I've already been to a divorce lawyer. He pretty much told me what would happen. Said I'd end up like you." Bill laughed at that.

Yeah, well at least Gloria let me have the travel trailer. If she hadn't done that, there's no telling where I'd be staying. Look, if you need a place to rack out for a while, you're always welcome."

"Thanks, Bill, but I don't think that'll be necessary," I said. "Ginger and I are gonna have a talk about all this tomorrow. Lawyer's drawing up some kind of an agreement. We'll see what happens."

"What about the piece of shit she's fucking? You gonna do anything about him?"

"I'd like to, but I don't know what right now. I sure as hell don't want to go to jail over either one of them. They're just not worth it."

"You got a point there. Still, it'd be nice if he woke up one morning with his balls missing." We both chuckled at that. We talked and laughed about this and that for a bit longer. Finally, he looked at his watch and stood up to leave.

"This has been fun, but I need my beauty sleep. Unlike you, I have to go to work tomorrow," he said. "Stay in touch and let me know how things work out. If there's anything you need, just call."

"Thanks, Bill, I appreciate that," I told him. After he left, I watched television for a while, then drifted off to sleep. It was a fitful sleep, made worse by dreams of disjointed images and scenes from what looked like several night clubs or hotel rooms. The next morning after breakfast, Dr. Simpson checked me out and cleared me for release.

"I'm doing this against my better judgment," he said. "Do me a favor and get in touch with me if you feel anything out of the ordinary -- headaches, dizziness, memory loss -- anything. Promise?"

"I promise," I said. He extended his hand and I shook it. The second our hands connected, I sensed the same kind of "memory dump" I experienced with Ginger the previous day. The sensation only lasted a second or two. He looked at me strangely.

"Are you okay, Mr. Drake?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Just anxious to get home."

"Alright, well, remember, call me if you feel anything out of the ordinary," he said. I promised him I would and started dressing for the trip home. By then, my parents arrived and we said our hellos.

"Well, you look pretty chipper for someone who just got hit by lightning," Dad said with a smile. I smiled back.

"I'm feeling pretty good as well," I told him.

"What happened to your eyes?" Mom asked.

"Oh, just a side effect of the lightning," I said. "What do you think?"

"They're... different," she said. A nurse came into the room and gave me my discharge papers, which included a couple of prescriptions and instructions for follow-up doctor visits. Then she grabbed a wheelchair and the four of us prepared to leave the ward. Before I left, though, I asked to stop at the nurse's station and left a message for Judy, thanking her for taking care of me.

"Got a girl friend? What will Ginger think about that?" Mom asked.

"Judy's just a friend, Mom," I said. "She took good care of me while I was here." I didn't want to get into my issues with Ginger right then. Dad drove us to my condo and they helped me inside with my things. Mom had a covered dish, which I knew contained a meatloaf. I thanked her for the food, and put it in the refrigerator. After we said our goodbyes, I put my stuff in the master bedroom, wondering how long I would remain here. I went back into the front room, turned on the television and sat on the couch.

I must have dozed off, because I woke with a start when I heard the doorbell ring. I looked at the clock and saw it was just after 12:30 pm. I opened the door to see two tall men in dark suits and sunglasses. One of them quickly flashed what looked like official credentials.

"Federal agents, Mr. Drake. May we come in?" one of them asked. I opened the door and let them inside. I tried to read them as I had done with Dr. Simpson, Ginger and Judy, but wasn't able to. It was as if they weren't really there.

"Please have a seat," I said. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Water? Coke?"

"No, nothing, thank you," the other man said, opening a briefcase he had set on my coffee table. "We have a matter of great importance to discuss with you, Mr. Drake."

"What agency did you say you're with?" I asked. They looked at each other for a minute. I knew something was fishy with these guys, so I pressed the issue. "Can I get a closer look at those credentials, please? I'd like to verify your identities."

The first man looked at me. Then he took his glasses off, and I saw the same strangely-shaped yellow eyes I had seen that night in my hospital room.

"Alright," I said, a bit upset. "Who are you? Really?"

"I'm sorry for the deception, Mr. Drake," the man said. "We are the ones responsible for your... condition."

"The lightning? You are the ones responsible for that?" I asked.

"It wasn't lightning, Mr. Drake," the other man said. "It was an... accident. Unfortunately, you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We... apologize."

"Well, if you two are responsible for this, then you can fix it, right? Maybe you can, I don't know, reverse the polarity or something and undo what you did."

"It is not that simple, Mr. Drake," the first man said. "For two reasons. First, the modulator is... broken. And it cannot be repaired here. Second, you would not survive a second strike. The first strike nearly dematerialized your cellular structure. A second would certainly be fatal. Besides, you are nearly fully-transitioned anyway."

"Fatal. Fucking wonderful. Fully-transitioned? Into what?"

"The modulator beam has altered your DNA. You may have noticed some changes lately."

"I have. What else is going to happen?"

"That will depend on you and your genetic makeup," the second man said.

"This just keeps getting better and better. So, who are you two? You never answered my question."

"We are scientists with the H'tq'uiy Antiquities Society. We were sent here to perform a survey. Are you familiar with the Gingravik?" the first man said.

"Uh, no," I said. "What is that, some kind of European rock band or something? And who are the Hotkey, anyway?" The two of them looked at each other and I heard sounds but couldn't make out what they were saying.

"That's H'tq'uiy, not 'hotkey.' There is a difference. So, you have not heard of the Gingravik?" the second man asked.

"Never heard of them," I said.

"Then there is nothing more to be learned here," the first man said. "We apologize for wasting your time. Good day." They stood to leave, but I stopped them.

"No, you're not just going to come in my house after hitting me with something that put me in the fucking hospital for several days, then just walk the fuck out," I said. They stopped and looked back at me. "I may have been born at night, but it sure as hell wasn't last night. I know when someone's trying to feed me a bunch of bullshit, and believe me, this stinks to high heaven." They turned and sat back down and considered me for a few moments.

"We do not wish for you to consume feces," the first man said. "And you are right. Your condition is due to our own failed experiment, so it is only right we help you in your transition." He opened his case and pulled out what looked like a headset, a book and a USB drive. He set them on the table.

"We detect memories from two other humans in your cranium. The headset is designed to download those to your computer. We have designed it with what you call Bluetooth to make that easier. The USB drive contains an app that will sort the memories and allow you to catalog and view them from any perspective you wish."

"And this?" I asked, looking at the book, taking in the strange symbols on the cover.

"An instruction manual to help you in your transition," the second man said. "The book will adjust as you develop so you will be able to understand what is written. You will need to follow those directions as closely as possible."

"What if I have questions? How will I contact you?" I asked.

"You won't," the first man said. "We must report to our superiors, and there is no guarantee we will be back. If we do return, however, we will check in to see how you have progressed. Again, you have our apologies. Good luck." With that, they stood up and left.

After they left, I took the items into the second bedroom -- a room I used as an "office" where I kept my personal laptop. I booted it up and inserted the USB drive after the Windows desktop came up. After my anti-virus program did its thing, the app began to load.

Once finished, it prompted me to pair the headset. I picked up the unit and found what appeared to be a power button. It lit up when I pressed the button and a few seconds later, I saw a notification that it had paired through Bluetooth.

Nervous, I put the thing on my head and waited for the program to respond. A few seconds later, I saw a dialog box telling me it was downloading. When the progress bar hit 100 percent, the box simply read, "Processing..."

I figured it would take a while for this to complete, judging from the movement of the progress bar, so I pulled out my phone and called Drew, the lawyer I saw the day I was "zapped." His receptionist told me was in court that day but I was able to make an appointment for the next afternoon, which suited me fine.

After I ended the call, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. When I got back, I saw the progress bar was still moving slowly across the screen, so I picked up the book and opened it up, curious about its content.

The first page had an interesting quote, which I took to be a warning: "With power comes responsibility. The greater the power, the greater the responsibility." I turned the page and saw a table of contents. What struck me right off was that it was written in two languages -- English and something I had never seen before.

The first section was labeled, "Information Gathering." The rest was unreadable, so I turned to the first section. The first thing I read was, "Know your enemy as yourself." Enemy. The word was like a knife in my chest. Was Ginger now my "enemy?" I read on.

The book explained the anaglyph effect I experienced with both Ginger and Dr. Simpson. According to the book, the more underhanded, deceptive and devious the individual, the more pronounced the effect would be. In short, I could tell who I could trust simply by looking at them. The book went into a fair amount of detail, so I read and re-read the section.