NANOVISION: What Would You Do With X-ray Vision?

by Paul Harry

  Inside, Daniel lay asleep on his bed. To one side, Rudy sat in a chair reading while June Bug lounged lethargically at his feet. Daniel stirred and the old man looked up. He glanced at his watch, then spoke to the dog. “You hungry, girl?” The dog looked at him with perked up ears. Rudy chuckled. “Me too. I’m starved. What you say we get something to eat, while he sleeps?” He got out of the chair and left the room with June Bug following, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him.

  Mickey stood next to his car. He watched as the old man left the house, exiting the front door. The old guy was alone and seemed to be paying little attention to anything as he nonchalantly headed across the lawn toward a hedge, where he disappeared from sight. Mickey gave it a couple of minutes before he headed for the house.

  Taking an evasive route Mickey crossed the yard, doing his best to keep his presence to a minimum. He made his way around the house looking for the backdoor. When he reached the rear entrance he found it locked, but had no trouble breaking a glass pane to gain entry. The glass shattered, drawing the attention of June Bug, who began to bark.

  Mickey wasted no time. He popped the lock on the door, opening it just in time to see the dog approaching. He fired a quick shot, dropping the animal instantly. It yelped and whimpered in pain, then fell to the floor.

  Upstairs, Daniel was awoken by June Bug’s barking and an unusually loud bang−it was followed by a painful yip which sounded serious. Sitting up, Daniel ripped the bandages from his eyes. Instinctively, he opened them wide not realizing any change had occurred. That was not the case. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes were no longer white, but entirely black and wet looking−a metallic sheen covering both eyeballs−the sclera, the iris, and his pupils.

  Daniel glanced about the room, noting the dimness surrounding him and almost immediately the room became lighter. Half awake, half asleep, Daniel barely realized that he was seeing or that his eyes were changing. He reached for his cane and got up. Outside in the hall he heard a creaking on the stairs. Suddenly his eyes began to react chaotically. There was a bright flash of light as a rainbow of colors began to spit, spin, and throb before him. Each eye was suddenly filled with a pulsating kaleidoscope of color filled with abstract gradients of shifting angles, pitch, and depth−in other words total chaos. Everything was fragmented and floating in and out of focus. Dizzy as hell, Daniel sank to the floor, hugging the bed for support. His cane fell to the carpet. Using the bed for support, he pushed himself up and steadied himself. There was another ominous creak in the hallway. He looked toward the door.

  Mickey was beside himself. He hated homes like this with their creaky old floors and doorways. As desperately as he tried, he was unable to keep from stepping on the planks that protested his weight and movement, but he had no choice. He had already searched the bottom half of the house and now he was making his way upstairs−the stairs were the worst. They creaked horribly as he moved, but there was carpet just ahead at the top.

  Daniel stared at the door−his ears straining to hear what was going on. Suddenly and without warning something totally unexpected happened−the door disappeared. Not like it was physically gone, but like he could see through it like an x-ray or something. And just beyond, out in the hallway, something was moving−it appeared to be a man or an animal creeping along the wall toward his door−he wasn’t sure. And even stranger, there was something shiny floating ahead of the form. It shone like Katie’s aluminum bat, the one leaning against the wall near the door. Daniel swallowed hard, something wasn’t right. He could feel it. Dancing around the bed on his tiptoes he grabbed the bat, and moved backwards hiding his body behind the door.

  Holding his breath, Daniel waited as the door slowly opened and his eyesight, now keener than ever before, showed in minute detail every singularity possible. He saw a gloved-hand holding a weapon−a gun protruding into the room. It was a shiny blue-black in color and it was pointed at his bed. Swinging with all his might Daniel brought the bat down, just at the gun flashed white. The light blinded him, but he didn’t miss. He clobbered the wrist and hand holding the weapon and heard whomever it was scream in pain as the weapon fell to the floor.

  Stone cold blind from the gun’s flash, but jacked up with adrenalin and fear, Daniel relied on his years of sightlessness for momentum and direction−his ears were his guide. As Mickey cussed in a painful harangue Daniel shifted his body weight, swinging the bat forcibly toward the body of his would be assassin, catching him mid chest. The blow doubled Mickey over and sent him to the floor gasping for breath. Daniel swung again, hitting him across the back. The hitman belched in agony and rolled to his side just as Daniel’s vision returned. He looked at the body lying on the floor, zeroing in on the face. At first, he didn’t recognize who it was, but then the beard faded from view revealing the scar underneath. It was the scar that had plagued him forever, haunting his dreams night after night for years on end. It was Mickey... Mickey, ‘the Spoon’!

  Daniel reeled back in disbelief. Memory upon memory flooded his brain. His heart, already pounding from adrenalin went into overdrive. The fear inside paralyzed him, choking away his breath. His eyes felt like they were about to burst as blood raced to his brain. Dropping the bat, Daniel stood there like a zombie unable to move, staring at the killer who lay on his bedroom floor. What should he do?

  Mickey moaned and it was all Daniel needed. He leapt over the body and ran for his life, flying down the hallway and stairs, panic chasing after him. He had to get away. Running into the kitchen, he slipped on June Bug’s blood and fell, hitting the floor with a thud. He cried out, got up and ran the other way, bolting for the front door.

  Dashing outside and leaping off the porch Daniel ran smack into Rudy, nearly knocking him over. The old man dropped the sandwich he was eating and swore like a sailor. “What the fuck! Hell kid, yah scared the shit outta me. What are you doing out here and where are your shoes?”

  Daniel stumbled toward the voice. He was blind again−eyes totally white.

  “Rudy! Rudy!” he cried, pawing at the old man. “We’ve got to get outta here. There’s a guy in the house with a gun. Didn’t yah hear the shots? He’s trying to kill me. June Bug’s dead...”

  Rudy stood there like a stooge. “What?... Shots?...”

  Daniel didn’t have time to explain. He grabbed the old man and pulled him away, keeping his eyes glued to where he thought the house was. “It’s the guy who killed my father, Rudy. He’s here for me.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when his vision returned. Only this time it was different. This time his irises were shaped in perfect circles, both a golden orange in hue with large black pupils, and with it Daniel’s night vision exploded, opening up the entire night. With panic written across his face; he pulled Rudy along.

  “Come on, Rudy! There’s no time.”

  Rudy was flabbergasted and noted it. “Jesus, kid. What’s wrong with your eyes? You look like a God-damn owl.”

  Daniel tugged unmercifully on Rudy’s arm. “There’s no time, Rudy. This guy will kill both of us. We gotta get outta here−now!”

  Accepting Daniel at his word, Rudy stopped resisting and the two began to run for Rudy’s home. They entered the side door to his garage.

  Mickey lay on the floor writhing in agony. Everything hurt like hell−his chest, his back, and his wrist! If it wasn’t broken it was damn close. He struggled to get up−he could hear yelling in the front of the house. It was the kid. With rage driving him, he got up, and grabbed the gun that lay about four feet away. He was forced to use his left hand as his right was badly swollen. Stumbling out of the room he made his way down the stairs. Every step jostled him, forcing him to suck in his breath and his right hand and wrist throbbed madly. He swore he was gonna kill that little prick.

  Making it to the porch, Mickey saw a car, an old Cadillac, pulling away from the house next door. He knew it had to be the old man and kid. He ran as best he could to his car−he had to catch them.

&nb
sp; Shaken to the core, Rudy drove like a drunken madman. He wasn’t used to such pressure and he was a nervous wreck. Swerving the wheel left and right he tore down the narrow streets of Los Gatos, heading for what he hoped was safety. “We should’a called the cops,” he stated, heatedly.

  Daniel shook his head. “There was no time. He had a gun. Wait a minute...” Daniel felt his pockets. Did he have his phone? No! “Shit,” he muttered. All he had was some tissue and his eyedrops. “Just great,” he mumbled.

  He looked over to Rudy wanting to say thanks, but got, instead, another surprise. Rudy was no longer driving the car. Instead there was a frightful looking creature sitting there − a half skeleton with exposed blood red muscle and tendons. The creature’s eyes were moving all about, bulging out of their sockets. It looked like a Halloween mask meant to scare children. Daniel cringed when the creature waved a bony finger in his direction.

  Rudy looked at Daniel. “What’s the matter, kid? You’re white as a ghost.”

  Daniel could take no more. “Stop! Stop the car! Stop the car.” he cried. “I’m going to be sick, really sick.”

  Rudy pulled off the side of road and watched as Daniel hit the door. The boy stumbled out into the cold night air and ran toward a grass lawn where he threw up and fell to the ground. He lay there not moving and Rudy became worried. Getting out of the car, he ran toward Daniel. The boy was unconscious. Rolling him over, Rudy slapped him on the face.

  “Come on, kid... we don’t have time for this shit.”

  Daniel resisted, but Rudy wouldn’t let it go. He slapped him again. “Come on, come on. I think I hear a car coming.”

  The blows brought Daniel around. “Okay, okay,” he acknowledged, rising from the grass. He used Rudy for support as they made their way back to the car. “God, what is wrong with me?” he asked.

  For the next twenty-six miles Daniel and Rudy sat in relative silence. They decided the best course of action was to get to some place safe, then call the cops, and Santa Cruz seemed as good a place as any. Besides, Rudy knew the area.

  As the car headed down state route 17 Daniel studied the terrain. The hills running alongside the roadway were dark and wooded, hiding secrets deep within their bowels, but not to Daniel. His eyes were seeing something entirely new and different, and it was only through the reflection of the car window that he noticed the cat-like appearance of his eyes. Beyond that, out into the dark abyss he saw much, much more − trees, grass, flowers and animals that were almost luminescent in appearance. To him the night was no longer obscure.

  Chapter 7

  On the Run

  Rudy pulled up to the Palomar Inn in Santa Cruz and parked in the space reserved for hotel check in. He glanced over at Daniel. The kid was out again, sweat beading up on his forehead−his fever was back. Rudy let him sleep and went in to register, getting them both a room on the fourth floor with two double beds. He had to bribe the bellhop twenty-bucks to help him lug Daniel to the room along with the promise of another twenty if the kid threw up. He told the bellhop that it was his grandson’s twenty-first birthday and he had been out partying with friends, gotten drunk and lost his shoes God knows where. The lie worked.

  When they arrived at the room Rudy and the bellhop put Daniel on one of the beds, and the bellhop left with his best tip of the night. Rudy glanced at his watch. It was almost eleven and he was hungry. He scrawled out a note letting Daniel know he’d gone for food. A half hour later Daniel woke up.

  For a millisecond Daniel thought he was blind again−all he saw was white, but instantly his vision burst forth filling his head with color and dimension. Granted it was a cheap hotel room, but it was sight and Daniel was beside himself with joy. After giggling like a silly school boy looking at everything in the room he spied the note from Rudy. He read it then felt the urge to pee. He went to the bathroom to relieve himself when he caught sight of himself in the mirror−so that’s what he looked like. He stared into the mirror with utter fascination.

  The face that looked back at him was older, more mature, with dark stubble popping out everywhere. He could finally grow a beard! He smiled, noting the white straight teeth that filled his mouth. Aunt Ethyl had seen to that. And his eyes−well they were unlike anything he’d ever seen before, a rich blue-green in color. Had they always been that color? Mentally he tried to picture himself at sixteen. He couldn’t remember−but weren’t they brown? Unexpectedly the color of his eyes changed, becoming a deep dark brown. “Holy Shit,” he swore aloud. What just happened?

  Focusing his view on the mirror, Daniel placed his face inches from its surface. Blue, he thought. Almost instantly he could see the color change. It was like watching the pixels on a cheap TV screen, the colors rippling from one color to the next. Green, he visualized. Again his eyes changed, becoming sea green. Darker−he commanded. The color of his eyes deepened now showing off a dark olive hue.

  There was a noise. The splat of a water drop hitting the tile floor behind him. Daniel turned, his eyes focusing in on the shower head. It was leaking. Without so much as a thought his sight zeroed in on the next drip. It loomed in front of him like a huge watery bubble. It was as if his eyes were a giant magnifying glass and he watched in amazement as the next drop fell to the tile, shattering into a million glass-like fragments. In the bathroom’s corner he noticed a tiny water bug inching its way along the baseboard. Instantly, it was a gigantic cockroach-thing with feelers and multiple eyes searching for food. He could see its every detail in perfect form from ten feet away. Holy crap, Aunt Ethyl. What have you done?

  Daniel began to strip down, checking out every inch of his body. It all seemed normal and he didn’t even have to bend his legs or knees to check out his toenails. It was phenomenal. He climbed into the shower and washed, humming to himself as the hot water cascaded down over his body; the soap on his skin lathering into a rich mixture of white clouds and bubbly iridescent rainbows. It was weird seeing things like this. Midway through the shower he realized how bad an influence his Aunt had become. He was humming one of those cheesy songs from the seventies, I can see clearly now the rain is gone...

  Feeling rejuvenated, Daniel left the bathroom and reread the note from Rudy. The note had eleven PM scrawled on it−it was now 12:08. Rudy been gone over an hour and Daniel was uncertain when he would return−hopefully soon. His thoughts returned to Aunt Ethyl and Katie and of course Mickey. Should he go ahead and call the cops? What would he say? He then realized that the best option would be to call Dr. Curry. He had Judy Salinski’s number and he could call her and let her know what had happened. She would know what to do. He picked up the phone and started to dial.

  The voice that answered at Dr. Curry’s office was his secretary−well, actually her voice on the answering machine. He knew the message by heart: “You have reached the office of Doctor Joseph Curry. Our office is now closed. If this is an emergency please hang up and call 911. If not, please leave your name and number and we will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you”.

  The tone finally beeped and Daniel began to speak.

  “Dr. Curry, this is Daniel Lewis. I’m calling to tell you that I remember everything... the man who killed my father... what happened back in Vegas − everything. His name is Mickey, ‘the spoon’ and he’s here in Santa Clara. I saw him earlier tonight. Can you call Judy Salinski and let her know. I don’t know who else to call. I’m staying at the Palomar Hotel in Santa Cruz, room−”

  BEEP! The end of the recording cut Daniel off.

  “Shit!” swore Daniel. He jammed his finger on the receiver and started to redial, but was interrupted by the sound of a key being pushed into a lock. Turning around he saw Rudy opening the door, his hands full of sundries and fast food.

  “Hey, kid... gimmie a hand,” the old man barked. He was out of breath and a bit short in temper, wrangling with the room key and the various bags in his hands.

  Daniel immediately dropped the phone and went to help. “I was wondering when you’d ge
t back,” he said, as he helped Rudy put the stuff on the bed.

  “Yeah, me too,” the old man noted. “You hungry?”

  “Yeah, starved,” Daniel replied.

  * * * *

  The interior office of Dr. Joseph Curry was dark, lit only by the thin, pale moonlight that passed through the vertical blinds. It was late, nearly midnight with no one on the streets of Santa Clara and the main reason Mickey had returned. Here in the doctor’s office he had a quiet sanctuary where he could roll things over in his mind. What the fuck was he going to do now? The kid had gotten away. Benny would have his ass for sure.

  He took another drag on his cigarette, the red tip flaring up, illuminating his sweaty face. He was screwed. Flummoxed, Mickey drummed his fingers on the desktop pondering his next move. It was then that the phone rang, causing him to jump. He cursed. Who the fuck would be calling at this hour? He looked over to the answering machine situated next to the desk and watched as the lights atop its surface blinked in response to the incoming call. The recorded greeting was nondescript−the usual answering machine blather. Mickey crushed his cigarette out on the desktop and leaned back in the chair, waiting to see who had the balls to call at this hour. When the answer came he nearly fell out of the chair and his heart raced as Daniel’s tinny voice cut the darkness.

  Mickey couldn’t believe it. The kid was actually calling and telling where he was. Unfucking believable! Instantly on his feet, Mickey scrambled for a pen, scribbling everything he heard onto the large calendar notepad that covered the desktop. His hands shook with excitement. This was just too fucking good to be true! It was then that the machine beeped, cutting off the boy’s voice. “Fock,” swore Mickey in exasperation. He didn’t have the room number. For the next twenty minutes Mickey sat waiting. He stared at the machine hoping against hope that the kid would call back, but nothing came. After thirty minutes he gave up. It was now a quarter to one and he had to get to Santa Cruz and find the Palomar Hotel. Somehow, someway he would get the room number he needed. It wasn’t too late to kill the kid!