by K. G. Duncan
“You think you know everything?” Olivia, who had worked her gag free suddenly interrupted. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, you…” Olivia squealed as Julia squirted the catsup bottle directly in her face.
“Shut up, you loathsome being.” Julia barked, never turning her head from Abby’s gaze. Olivia sputtered as the gag was quickly replaced.
Now it’s true that Julia was a particularly clever girl, the type who always thinks of every contingency, particularly when she was carrying out her nefarious plans, which always ended up with her smelling like roses. What Julia could not have known, however, is that all the timing and planning in the world cannot account for the fact that Abby was only days, if not hours away from her dragon transformation. And as her minions silenced the protesting Olivia, and Julia stepped up to Abby, condiment bottles poised, she could not have anticipated what would happen next.
“Now,” Julia cooed. “Miss Jaybird. Miss Plum Naked. What were some of those other names you came up with, Balt?” Julia glanced at the hulking figure of Balt Luster, whose snarl widened into a hideous grin.
“A.B.R.” Balt said huskily. “All-Beaver-Review.” Several more kids snickered at that. Julia turned back to Abby and smiled.
“That’s right, All-Beaver-Review,” She repeated slowly. “Not exactly a civilized or proper nick-name, Balt. But appropriate nonetheless. Well, I think this hot dog needs to come out of its bun.” She nodded at two of her girls and then commanded harshly, “Strip her!”
The girls hesitated and the crowd was suddenly very silent. This was about to get either really good or really bad, depending on which side of the bullying spectrum you came down upon. Would it be entertaining or sickening to watch? A few of the kids with lesser stomachs, or more to the point, those with kinder, more humane dispositions began to inch away from the ring of onlookers, too alarmed at the prospect of the pending violation. Others wriggled in tighter, feral eagerness defining their demeanor.
“You heard me. Strip her.” Julia repeated. But the girls still hesitated. “All right, not all the way, just down to her panties. There are children present. Sheesh!” Julia repositioned the mustard and catsup bottle in her hand for maximum squirting power as the girls, grinning stupidly, approached.
Now this whole time, Abby had remained perfectly still. Her eyes had never left the strutting form of Julia. She watched quietly as Julia attacked Olivia. Her breaths had become slower, and longer—a strange calm had taken over her entire being. Now her muscles, which had been rigid and tense, relaxed. She could feel the hard grip of her captors lessening in response. As Julia approached with her she-thugs, Abby closed her eyes. All of her power had retreated to deep within her, a small, white-hot ball of fire that pulsed inside of her but suddenly released toward the base of her skull. A tickling thrill shot down her spine, and she flexed her fingers and her toes.
As the first rough hands touched her shoulders and tugged at her blouse, the ball of fire exploded. Her body contorted into a rigid, flexing plank as hard as steel. The hands that had been holding her down flew away, the children sent sprawling around her. There was an initial shocked gasp from the crowd of onlookers, and a few girls began to scramble away as an ear-splitting shriek emerged from Abby’s rigid form. It was an alien, metal-on-metal type of grinding sound that forced Julia and the others to drop down and clutch at their ears.
In an instant, Abby was released from her rigid convulsing state, and she sprang on top of her table. She glared down at Julia, who had fallen to her knees, terrified before her, and Abby contorted her body like a hissing cat, her back arching dramatically toward the sky as she emitted one more earth-rending, metal-bending screech.
Chaos ensued as the surrounding children screamed and began to scatter, pushing and thrashing their way around each other, knocking chairs over, sending food trays flying. With a quick look around, Abby froze briefly as she caught Olivia’s eye. Olivia was sitting on top of Balt, who had been knocked over by the initial screech of power. She nodded at Abby, who smiled back, then leaped from the table, an impressive vault that traveled over fifteen feet before she landed, leapt again over the wall, then bounded away. Olivia thought she caught an iridescent flash of purple and green behind Abby’s ears just before she leapt.
“That was so cool!” Olivia murmured and got up from the now audibly-freaking Balt.
“Did you see that? Did you see that? What the… Did you see that?” Balt was blubbering deliriously.
“I didn’t see nothing,” Olivia snapped back. “Don’t wet yourself, Balthazar.” She dusted off her pants, then walked over to Julia who remained on her knees, dazed, and staring at the tipped over table where Abby had been. The condiment bottles remained firmly gripped in her hands, yellow mustard and red catsup slowly dribbling from their spouts and on to Julia’s lavender dress and bare legs. The other kids were screaming and running every which way. Some of them had gone back inside the restaurant. A crowd was beginning to gather nearby—strangers who had been passing on the street, other customers and restaurant employees. Olivia squatted down next to Julia and snorted.
“I told you so,” she hissed into her ear.
The loud voice of Ms. Trudy could now be heard over the growing crowd. Her linebacker physique could be seen coming from the restaurant and pushing her way through the crowd.
Olivia turned back to Julia and quickly proclaimed, “Not one word of this, to anybody! D’ya hear? Not one word, or so help me we will come for you at night and chew your goddamned legs off! Not that you don’t deserve it!” Olivia’s words seemed to have very little effect as Julia continued to vacantly stare at the table. Ms. Trudy’s booming voice was drawing closer.
Olivia clucked in disgust, “You’re just a ditzy girl now, ain’t ya, Princess? Gotta go.” She ducked away and wove her way through the crowd, disappearing around the pavilion walls and down the street vaguely in the direction she had seen Abby go.
“Miss DeChamplain!” Coach Trudy’s meaty hand clamped down on Julia’s shoulder. “Do you want to explain what the devil is going on here?”
But Julia remained silent, her eyes still locked on the table. The table. Exactly where Abby had been just moments before, only now, turned on its side, where three large parallel scratches deeply gouged in the metal rim were all that remained to mark her passage. They looked to be left by something very powerful and with very sharp claws.
From the Audio transcripts of Dr. Joanna Kinsey
Chief Psychiatrist, CHNOLA Northshore Center,
New Orleans, LA
Excerpt of Audio File Transcript #AR10089-38
June 28, 2022
Subject: A. B. Rubideaux. Female. Age: 11
Transcript of recording begins: 10:07 A.M EST.
Kinsey: So, this concept of the Fold—I must admit I’m highly skeptical.
A.B.: Your skepticism is simply your dependence on scientific process. You can’t see how science has become your blind faith. Look to your study and knowledge of mythology. The Ancients buried their secrets in plain sight. They are simply cloaked in the form of a really good story.
Kinsey: So, I will find the truth in ancient Babylon, in the tales of Gilgamesh, and Tiamat?
A.B.: Or in religious metaphors. The Bible is filled with many examples. What do you think we are talking about when we ponder heaven or hell? They are constructs of our collective mind, and they are good examples of multiple dimensions within the Fold.
Kinsey: Those are fairly extreme examples. Are you saying that such dimensions exist because people believe in them?
A.B.: Yes, that’s right. Hell will come to you and manifest if that is your constant meditation. There is no other way to explain the suffering on this planet. But, Heaven is possible, too.
Kinsey: But what if I believe in fairies? Does that mean that they exist, too? Can I make them manifest in this world here?
A.B.: Are you certain they are not already here? Or at least in another dimension, just next door to this one?
Kinsey: Maybe Lewis Carroll would think so.
A.B.: Precisely. And maybe you, too? Certainly, most children believe so. But they don’t know any better, do they? You see? We are all Alice, in a certain sense. If you want to understand, you need to overcome your skepticism. After all, Tiamat, Heaven and Hell, or certain rabbit holes of the imagination… they are all multiple dimensions of reality and no small constructs to ponder without at least a modicum of proper seriousness…
Kinsey: Star Wars. Luke Skywalker’s tale is the classic Hero’s journey. Powerful and meaningful ripples in the pond.
A.B.: And those stories have been around since long before Gilgamesh. In our collective reality within the Fold we have lived and experienced these things over and over again. Do you remember when you asked me how old I was? This might be the better way to answer that. We have been called by many different names. But we are the same thing every time.
Kinsey: Hang on! Are we talking reincarnation? Multiple lives?
A.B.: Well, reincarnation is one way to make sense of it. The Hindus and the Celts certainly have tried. Tibetan lamas have made it into a rite of succession. But that’s just an elaborate comfort to any ego that wants to claim immortality. No, that’s not the point. How about this? For the scientist in you, a deeper study of DNA strands is not a bad way to get started, actually. That is a model and a pattern that will inform you. Or, if you prefer a more metaphorical landscape, you can study some of the folklore and spiritual practice of indigenous peoples of this planet—those who still live closer to the living spirit of the Fold and from whence I have come. From where I have always existed. The Ashaninca people of modern-day Peru, for instance, call me “Avireri,” one of the Maninkari or “the Hidden Ones.” (Giggling). Now those are brightly-colored and fluorescent serpents! “The Hidden Ones.” Sounds so mysterious. Only I’m not so hidden now, am I? (Giggling). Here I am… It’s all in the DNA, actually. Your studies of genetics are getting so close to unlocking the secrets behind our reality. And I am here now, talking to you.
Kinsey: Sorry A.B., but you’ve lost me. How is the study of folklore, or your choice of a dragon, or our understanding of time related to DNA?
A.B.: Well, shall we save our discussion of the cosmically conscious biosphere for another day? It was so much easier back in the times when the planet was lush and full of vegetation. It was easier to make the connections when nature was informing us on a daily basis. (Long pause, tapping sound like a finger on the desk.) Ok, Let’s try this: There are only four basic types of DNA, after all, and it is all playing out before us each and every day. But here is a thought: How did we get from the Garden of Paradise to salted caramel mocha frappaccinos at your corner Starbucks? (Laughter.) Ok, I do so love to digress… I shall try to focus on the concept of Time. (Giggling.) Ok—here goes: I have always existed right now, and I have never existed beyond that. I exist in the now, and that is always. I am… eternal—yes, that’s the word that comes closest for you to understand. I exist everywhere and nowhere all at once. It has always been so. So, the question isn’t how old am I, but more like “how” do I come to be here in your presence right now? Why are you perceiving me in this time and place? (Giggling.) Ooh, but that’s a whole different question for another time. A better question, perhaps. But when we talk about “time” in the defocalized, non-linear sense, we have to redefine what we mean by awareness. And at this time, I am acutely aware that we are running out of time for this session of yours. (Laughing.)
Kinsey: Okay, but let me worry about the time in that sense. I am sure that you are aware that we have some spiritual traditions that come close to what you are talking about. At least as I understand it. You mentioned Tibetan lamas—We have teachers, masters… meditative practitioners who talk about higher consciousness, a transcendent state of mind that exists beyond time… what the Buddhists call Nirvana. Is that what you mean?
A.B.: Now, a Buddhist dragon would be a very nice dragon indeed. (Giggling.) Yes, you are getting closer… There’s an infinite number of choices and a myriad of manifestations of the present for me and you. And each one contains all of the others. That is the “real” nature of time. I exist—you exist—we all exist in the Fold beyond this physical reality. The reasoning facilities of the frontal cortex of your brain won’t allow you to process this. You can’t perceive it, so it doesn’t exist. (Giggling.) Oh, but it does exist, Joanna. You’ll have to trust me on this one.
Kinsey: I don’t see how any of that’s possible, A.B..
A.B.: (Laughing.) Well, that’s a “you” problem. And you’ve just proved my point.
46 Days Earlier: May 13, 2022
The trash bin to Abby’s left was pretty ripe. Either something had crawled up in there and died, or the mix of a week’s worth of food items had succumbed to rot and decay. Either way, Abby was wishing that she had picked a different hedge in another parking lot to make her bed in.
Earlier in the day, after she had run away from the confrontation with Julia at the lunch tables, she had zig-zagged her way through the streets of New Orleans, fleeing blindly with no real thought of a destination. She was in full flight response and had only one thought in her mind: to get as far away as she could. When her legs began to cramp up and her feet were sore enough to light a fire, she sighed with relief when she rounded the corner of a building and saw the Superdome looming in a large, empty parking lot. She liked the Superdome because that was where the Saints played football, and right about that moment she needed a saint in her life.
It had been no problem hopping over the low cement wall and walking up the ramp that led to the arena. The entire facility seemed deserted, but across the empty parking lot trees and shady green spots along the street wall beckoned—a welcome relief from a humid and hot summer day. When she found the hedge-lined wall, she saw that there was plenty of room to wriggle in behind and get completely out of sight. She had found that someone else had had a similar idea, for there were old blankets and large tied off plastic bags of what looked like trash and old clothing. There was a slight smell of body odor and urine. Cautiously, she had peered around the hidden encampment. It was surprisingly tidy, and all the rubbish was stacked in one area with a large clearing that was immaculate and free of debris. She had plopped down, too exhausted to investigate what lay beyond the dumpster. She listened carefully and not a soul nor even a small critter stirred. There was the humming of an air duct somewhere close by, and she could hear the cars going by on the elevated highway in the near distance. The droning noises were rhythmic and oddly soothing. They made her feel sleepy.
She leaned against the wall and stared at the hedge in front of her. She found that she could see the looming structure of the Superdome through the gaps in the hedge and across the vast parking lot, and she marveled at the size of the arena. She looked at the domed ceiling, and she noticed that in the late afternoon sky, the colors and edges of her sight were blurring and shifting around. There was an almost fractal quality to the light that shifted just above the dome where the roof met the sky. Purple, green, and deep indigo colors danced and contorted in the sky, blending in with the lines of the Superdome. Everything was starting to go fuzzy around the edges.
These were all symptoms of the change. Her skin tingled all over, and she flexed her fingers. The edges of her fingers looked blurry as well, and was she only imagining the nails of her fingers growing and sharpening into claws or was it really happening? She clenched her hands into fists and took a deep breath. The change was imminent. It would come before the night was over, and Abby would have to move on again and find somewhere isolated and private.
She took two more deep breaths and tried to think back to the events of the day—how she had run, blindly and in a panic—how she had nearly transformed right there on the patio of the restaurant in front of Julia
and everyone! What had happened? Never had a change only gone half-way before. Somehow she had stopped it.
Two more deep breaths to quell the sudden rise of anger inside her chest. Did she really let out the dragon scream in Julia’s face? She smiled at the sudden image and memory of Julia’s shocked and horrified expression. Well, that mean, rich girl bitch deserved it if she wet her britches.
The humming air duct droned on. Somewhere in the distance a car horn honked. Abby curled up snuggly and closed her eyes.
It was almost dark when she opened them again. The wind had changed, and the smell of the dumpster was now nearly overwhelming. Ah yes, the dumpster. The homeless clearing, so tidy and hidden from view. She sniffed the air again, then realized that it wasn’t the smell alone that had woken her. With a sudden start she whirled her head around and saw him.
A middle-aged man was squatting down at the edge of the clearing, smiling. His teeth, so white and brilliant were the first thing she saw in the twilight dusk. Then she saw the face—a kind face, dark brown, wrinkled and care-worn, but the wrinkles were the type of wrinkles that were made by smiling, from the large dimples to the crow’s feet around his dark brown eyes, like the face would not have been complete without them. He squatted there, very still, his forearms resting across his thighs. Somewhere deep inside of Abby, something within her relaxed.
“I see you’ve found my summer home.” His voice was deep and resonant, the southern drawl inflecting and drawing out his syllables. His smile widened, and his eyes disappeared into a fracturing vein of slitted wrinkles. “Only got a few more weeks before football season, and that’s all she wrote. Pack up your troubles in an old kit bag and off we go.”
