Coattail Karma

by Verlin Darrow

  “Me too.”

  We stood, hugged, and then kissed relatively chastely. Sam turned to go. I remembered one last thing I needed to ask.

  “So I guess there isn’t really an insomnia epidemic looming, huh? Some weird disease that’ll keep sleepers from maintaining illusion?”

  She faced me from the doorway. “As a matter of fact, I’ve heard rumors about that. If there really is such a disease, we’re going to have a very big problem. The idea that sleeping minds keep the physical realm afloat is correct.” She yawned.

  “Would the world—the universe—just disappear?” I asked.

  “If there’s not a critical mass of consciousness supporting it, there’s no illusion. I don’t know if it would disappear or blow up or just never have existed in the first place. I don’t know, Sid. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

  “Of course. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, my love,” Sam said.

  When she’d left and shut the bedroom door behind her, I pivoted and spoke to Spot.

  “She called me ‘her love,’ ” I told him. “Her love.”

  My spirit guide glanced up and listened attentively. I could sense that he understood me. Then he winked again.

  I winked back. Things were looking up. I had a mother and father again, a girlfriend of sorts, a dog of sorts, and assorted spiritual superpowers. No one was currently trying to kidnap me, kill me, or drive me crazy. My best friend was on his way here with my father. I was in a beautiful house with a belly full of healthy food.

  I fell asleep compiling a gratefulness list. Of course, I didn’t know how many wild events I’d be ungrateful for the next day. If I had, I might not have fallen asleep so easily.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I awoke the next morning to find Spot trying to lick my face, but I couldn’t feel it.

  “Good morning, Spot,” I said.

  He pantomimed a bark—or maybe he really barked back in Spiritland or wherever most of him was. At any rate, I couldn’t hear him.

  Why was he attempting to wake me up? I watched him for a moment through sleepy eyes. He might’ve been a cross between a skinny black lab and something houndish with longer legs. Another breed had contributed the white spots to his fur. His ears were oversized and hung down alongside his handsome face. One of them was mostly white, the other mostly black. Spot was very muscular. If he’d been a real dog, he’d have been a handful to manage on a leash.

  I peered past him. Uh oh. This wasn’t the same room I’d fallen asleep in. It wasn’t even the same house.

  I sat up and looked closer. Was I dreaming? I found myself reclining on a cushy duvet on a queen-sized bed in a hotel room. There was another bed across a narrow aisle and a blanket-covered figure lay in it, turned away from me. The room was so generically decorated, it could’ve been anywhere. Everything was beige or taupe or cream-colored. Heavy, patterned drapes covered most of the windows.

  Had I been kidnapped again? Drugged and taken?

  I looked down to see what I was wearing—was it the same T-shirt and boxer shorts I’d had on when I fell asleep? It was, but my body was only a blurred image now. I wasn’t solid; I could see through me. I wasn’t even as solid as Spot had been. I looked around for him—to compare our images—but he was gone.

  I began to freak out. It certainly didn’t feel like a dream. It was some sort of waking nightmare.

  Then Spot was there. He suddenly appeared beside me and tried to lick my face again. This time I felt his tongue and saliva. He was completely solid-looking, too. Was I on his turf? How else could I feel him? Had he led me somehow into the spirit world? Was it comprised of mid-priced motel rooms?

  “Hey!” I called to whoever was asleep in the other bed. As soon as I spoke, Spot ran off. “Hey!” I called again.

  The man turned over and faced me. It was Rinpoche—the Tibetan from Baba’s tomb.

  “Hello, Sid,” he said. “So you’re astral traveling now. Good for you.”

  “Not on purpose,” I said. “What is it, anyway? I’ve heard of remote viewing—like in a near-death experience—is it something like that?”

  “Sure. Same kind of thing. Your consciousness is wandering around outside your body. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

  “Terrifying,” I said, although I was feeling calmer now that he’d provided an explanation. It was a spooky explanation, but it was better than some of the alternatives I hadn’t been willing to explore—such as being dead.

  “Well, it has no context for you, does it?” Rinpoche said. “You haven’t come out of any tradition. This is unusual.” He smiled his weird smile. “But terror can be fun,” he added.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Never mind,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re visiting me, Sid. You woke me up. What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.” I thought for a moment. “How about this? Should I be worried about Marco?”

  “Oh yes. Don’t underestimate him.”

  “And you really think this plan to put me in charge of the world makes sense?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t. I was just agreeing to it to stay alive. Marco was planning to kill us if we didn’t agree.”

  “Yikes. So I’m in danger, too?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. But Sid, my sources tell me you’re involved in something bigger.”

  “What could be bigger? What sources?”

  “I don’t know exactly what your destiny is,” Rinpoche said, “but it transcends all this tomfoolery. And I know this because I’m in contact with energy beings.”

  “People without bodies?”

  He nodded. “Not people. But something like what you mean. They visit me at night like you’re doing now.”

  “Are they like a spirit dog? Did a spirit dog tell you?”

  He laughed his wild laugh. “I enjoy you, Sid. You are a fun person. And you can tell your dog to come out from the bathroom.”

  I turned to look that way, and Spot ran into the room and barked. I could hear him clearly. It was a deep, growly bark—a bark that said, “Don’t fuck with my owner, Bucko!”

  “Oh my!” Rinpoche squealed in a silly falsetto voice. “I’m so scared. Save me from the scary spirit dog.” Then he laughed again, this time throwing his head back and really letting loose.

  Spot stood beside my bed. I think his dignity had been compromised.

  “So is this it?” I asked. “This is what astral traveling is? Talking to some joker in a hotel room?”

  “For you, I guess,” he said. “Perhaps your subconscious is guiding you and it operates on a more mundane plane than you’d like to think. Personally, I like to explore the galaxy—visit other worlds.”

  “That sounds a lot more fulfilling. Will you teach me how to do it?”

  “No,” he said, rolling over in the bed to face away from me. “Leave me alone. I’m tired. I’m going back to sleep. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

  Spot barked again, and suddenly I was back in my body in the house in Santa Cruz, panting for breath. I was awake and by myself. I was also sweating and shaking. I checked the clock; it was after five in the morning, but it was still dark.

  Wow. That had been real—well, not a dream, anyway. Real had become a very relative term with diminishing value. What realm was the real one? Or a better question might be: were any of them any realer than the others?

  Generating new, unanswerable questions was not helpful. I decided to go for a run. I was wide awake, and I’d had no legitimate exercise in quite some time. If a bike had been handy, that would’ve suited me best, but running would be the next best thing.

  I peed and splashed water on my face. The guy in the bathroom mirror was more Indian-looking than I remembered. And older—much older. I didn’t identify with my face the way I had before. It happened to be the way I looked. It wasn’t who I was.

  I got dressed and then, as quietly
as I could, made my way through the dark house to the front door. It was a cool morning, but if I kept moving, I’d be fine in my T-shirt and pants. I built a rhythm down the long driveway and then turned onto Escalona. The street was quite dark, except for the limited range of a few orangey streetlights. A small dog yipped. I ran.

  After a block or two, I heard footsteps behind me. My first thought was Oh good, here’s someone to run with. I swiveled my head to see who it was. Jason Patariki.

  “Don’t blast me,” he called. “I come in peace.”

  I sped up, but a moment later he pulled up next to me, and we kept running. I fantasized about sprinting away or ducking between houses, but who was I kidding? I had about as much chance of that as beating him at arm wrestling.

  “What do you want?” I asked. “You’re not my favorite person.”

  “First, I wanted to thank you,” he said in his rich baritone voice. His New Zealand accent was especially pronounced. “The energy you sent me in India—outside the tomb—it’s changed my life.”

  I turned to look at him for a moment as we ran. He smiled his million-dollar smile. Jason truly was a beautiful man. All his features were large, and of course, his body was huge, but somehow the arrangement was all of a piece—harmonious. He wore what looked like the same khaki shorts and black polo shirt I’d first seen him in, along with a brand-new pair of purple running shoes.

  “Really,” he said, seeing the skepticism on my face. “First, it just knocked me on my ass. And I was angry when I gathered myself. But there was a time lag. Over the next few days, my heart opened. I love you, Sid.”

  I glanced over at him again. He was crying.

  “So thank you so much,” Jason said. “You are my teacher now.”

  “What about Bhante?” I asked.

  I slowed down a little, and he matched my pace. I was starting to breathe hard and break a sweat. Jason wasn’t.

  “I’ve left Kasriti. I can’t be involved with those people.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I asked.

  “Don’t you have special powers? Can’t you tell when someone is lying?”

  “Maybe,” I said. I shifted laterally in my mind and opened up to his energy. It was relatively easy to do now. Jason’s chi was very strong, but disorganized. It was like discordant music. Each discrete note was pure; things just didn’t fit together quite right. Clearly, there were no false notes or creepy energy. He was telling the truth.

  “Whoa,” he said from alongside me. “Can you turn the volume down, Sid?”

  “What? Oh, sorry.” I’d been inadvertently radiating energy beyond my physical body. The boundary between inside and outside was a lot vaguer now. My edges were softening. I willed the phenomenon to stop, and it did.

  “Thank you, teacher,” he said.

  “Let’s stick with Sid,” I suggested.

  “Sure. No worries.”

  We ran a bit more, and then I turned a corner, planning to return on a street three blocks down the hill. Jason effortlessly kept up with me.

  “Let me be your bodyguard,” he said. “You need one.”

  “I have Sam,” I told him.

  “Look at you right now,” he said. “You’re out alone in the dark. Where’s Sam? What if I hadn’t been me? What if people like Frank are hiding right now behind all these trees? Plus, I want to be near you. I want to learn. I need more help. You’re the man, Sid. You’re the real deal.”

  “I have another protector, too, Jason. He’s always with me.” I glanced around for Spot, but I couldn’t see him.

  “Where?”

  “He’s invisible. He’s a spirit dog.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Jason said. “I have a spirit animal, too. It’s a Maori thing. But they can only help in certain ways. There are rules. And a dog isn’t a proper spirit animal, anyway—it has to be a wild animal.”

  Just then, Jason tripped and almost fell. I looked down in time to see Spot dart away from between the big man’s legs.

  “Spot doesn’t like that kind of talk,” I said.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry, Spot,” he said.

  I considered Jason’s offer. “It’s not really up to me,” I said. “I’m staying with the RGP people—with my mother. They might not want you in the house.”

  “They would if you told them you needed me there. Please let me help. If you don’t want a bodyguard, maybe there’s something else I can do. I’m rich. I’m famous. That could be helpful. The world needs you. The world needs your energy. Let me make sure the world gets what it needs.”

  His heart was in the right place. Jason truly did love the world and want the best for it. I could sense that. “How did you find me, anyway?” I asked, postponing a response to his request. Every breath hurt now, and my calves ached.

  “It’s a long story,” he said, “but basically, various people followed various people.”

  We weren’t far from the house now, but the last three blocks back were steeply uphill. “All right,” I gasped. “Let’s try it. I’m sure Sam has better things to do than babysit me all the time. And I have no idea what Spot can do.”

  “Great!” he said, slapping me on the back so hard that I almost fell forward onto my face. Maybe I needed a bodyguard to protect me from my bodyguard.

  We ran in silence for a while. I was a bit surprised by what I’d just said. Apparently, I trusted my newfound ability to read energy more than I distrusted someone who’d played a distinctly negative role in my recent personal history.

  When we were within sight of the RGP driveway—it was becoming lighter by the minute—one of the parked cars facing us on Escalona Street turned on its headlights. The glare was right in our eyes.

  Somebody goes to work early. But a moment later, four men piled out of the car and spread across the asphalt in front of us. Silhouetted against the lights, I couldn’t see who they were. I turned around. Could we run? The same scene was unfolding behind us, but it was at least six men in that direction. I could see them clearly. Maoris.

  “I’d say, ‘Let’s try running,’ ” I said, panting, “but I’m just about out of gas.”

  “I can see that,” Jason said. “But I don’t know if I can fight them all off.”

  “Should we try?”

  “I think we have to. They may want to kill you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Really?” I asked. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel much of anything. I need to keep feeling, I told myself. I need to stay human.

  “Really. Can you shoot your energy at them? Can Spot help? Do you have a phone with you?”

  Before I could answer, the men behind us charged. We sprinted toward the ones in front.

  Jason waded in and started kicking in crisp, wide arcs. Three men fell, and only one got up. The fourth one facing us came at me, and I sent a burst of energy his way. He staggered back, with an incongruous, sweet smile on his face.

  In the meantime, someone grabbed me from behind and pinned my arms. With a roar, Jason plucked him off me and hurled him into a short, goateed guy. Someone else landed a punch to the side of Jason’s head—just above his ear. He didn’t seem to notice. Two more men came at me—there were just so many of them.

  I sent out more energy, and this time a delayed release of adrenaline turbocharged it. I could feel the shift in intensity, and the gangbanger beside me certainly could, too. He went stiff and then toppled over.

  Another guy seemed unaffected, though. He launched himself into the air, his right leg extended. His foot was on a trajectory to smash into my nose.

  Then Spot intervened. He leapt in the air and met the guy at the peak of his jump. He bit his ankle through his black warm-up pants. I don’t think the attacker felt it as a bite, but he lost his balance nonetheless and veered off course, landing hard on the pavement next to me.

  Another younger man took his place. Some of the attackers who Jason had felled had recovered. I blasted this latest guy, and he was only mildly affected. It seemed to distract him
and slow him down, but otherwise he remained intact.

  I took a moment to look around at the full-scale melee. We were ridiculously outmanned, especially since I didn’t know how to fight, and the effect of my energy on our adversaries seemed to vary tremendously.

  I could see Jason fighting two men to my right. Several others circled them, cheering on their compatriots.

  The Maori men that Jason fought were obviously accomplished martial artists themselves. One of them seemed to be even quicker than Jason, and the other one fought dirty—throwing powder from his pocket at Jason’s eyes and aiming most of his kicks at his crotch.

  As the stunned man in front of me regained his senses and others joined him, Spot continued to bite, trip, and harass whoever tried to hurt me, but his influence was limited. He could get underfoot and interfere with an attacker’s balance and timing, but that was about it.

  I let loose multiple energy bursts; some of my targets seemed to be temporarily incapacitated, while others were merely confused. Mostly, they paused, shook themselves, and then kept coming at me.

  After a few more minutes of this, it was clear that we were screwed. Jason was being held at bay within a circle of attackers—and several of them held chains or clubs.

  Then a big guy wearing a straw fedora hefted a metal baseball bat as he eyed me from about eight feet away. When I glanced behind me to see if I could try running from him, I saw two more men standing with their arms crossed. One of them blew me a kiss.

  Spot stood by my side, but even he looked worn out. His tongue hung out of his mouth, dripping spirit saliva, and he was breathing harder than any of our attackers.

  The gang member with the bat moved forward cautiously. He’d seen what I’d done to some of the others. I zapped him with all I had left. No effect. Either I was out of juice for now, or he was immune to my energy.

  He raised the bat, and I readied myself to dodge his blow. Spot inserted himself between us, but as the bat lashed out, it went through his spirit form unimpeded.