Note:
I know this has been done many times already, and done pretty well,
but
I couldn't resist. *sigh*
Gratefully
dedicated to Sandra, the only one who can inspire me to write by just being
herself. ;)
***
I've
considered myself to be pretty lucky.
Mostly
because whenever there's a bad thing happening to me, I realize it
could've
been much *worse*. The list of my lucks starts from the very beginning
when I ended up inheriting a load of money when my parents died.
That
shouldn't constitute as 'lucky', some people might think. But no, I'm
lucky compared to many others who lived hard lives, cold and starving.
I went through my childhood without begging and scavenging on the
streets. That, I consider lucky. Very lucky. I've been
playing one of the most hated cyber-journalists of the country for a few
years without getting caught. Statistically wise, that's very lucky
too. Was married to an alcoholic who ended up divorcing me herself, so
I didn't have to clean up her mess every night. That's what I call luck. I
should've died when the man named Bruno shot me, very much intending to kill
me. I didn't. I just ended up in a wheelchair.
Bad
things happen and there's nothing you can do about it. You only focus
on the bright side of things. That's what I've learned.
So,
I'm trying to focus on the bright side right at this point.
Let
see, I'm afraid of heights. And like the most people, I'm not so keen on
dying.
And
now I'm on the roof of a *very* high building, with two muscular goons who
are ready to push me off anytime they wish standing right behind me.
So...what
did I think of my luck again?
This
wasn't exactly what I had planned when I persuaded the terrorist to let the
women and children go, although I envisioned myself ending up in a similar
situation--I didn't have faith in that military man to keep his gun in the
holster for that long. That was the risk I was going to
take. The scene where the doctor went flat on the concrete ground like
a squashed bug haunted me and I was determined not to make that scene again
with innocent children and women. And Max. Not that I thought
Max would end up in this kind of situation--she's too strong for that.
Of
course, can't say the same about me.
People
say at the last moment of your breath, everything that happened
in
your life passes you by like panorama pictures. Well, that's a
lie. The last coherent thought you remember is--youregonnadieyouregonnadie,
or,
notyetnotyetnotyetdammitnotyet.
Inside, you're trembling with fear and
literally
scared to death. I had my fair share of moments to look at the Death
face to face, so I think I'd know.
But
it's a little different this time. I think after my last attempt at
getting back the control of the wheelchair was blocked, the frightening
numbness has withered. Guess this is the resignation I feel.
Except that, I can't really feel anything. I'm not *that* afraid
anymore, I guess. Face it like a man, was it?
The
perps drag me to stand on the lane so I can actually look down.
It's
a very long way down. Can't help but stare down at the people and the
cars
and the streets and the small buildings...all very incredibly small. And my
body
is acting desperately according to instincts and vainly tries not to
lose
the balance and fall. How ironically FUNNY is that? With the
help of
the
goons behind me, I'm going to fall anyway. But my body wants to live a
second
longer, trying its best to delay the last moment.
Unlike
what's going on inside it, the city of Seattle looks very beautiful
at
night from a distance, especially from this very...*high* position.
The
lights
from the complicated labyrinth of streets brighten up the sky, embroidering
the indigo with faint red and gold. Like an aura perhaps.
Remember
seeing it when I went to Canadian Rockies, with my parents at
my
side. Remember the snow I saw on a very strange midday; the sun was
shining
between the bunches of dark clouds, dyeing the clear blue sky with
golden
rays, but the snowflakes were falling, dancing their intricate dance in
silence.
The lonely hisses of the wind, and silence.
It
was surreal. Thought if there was something called Heaven, or the
Elysian Field, or the state of ending circle of Dharma, or...whatever we
call it, that place might be it. It was...surreal.
So
is this moment.
So,
falling.
I
wonder how that feels like.
Think
I'm gonna find that out very soon.
I
close my eyes, feeling the hard shoves, feeling myself losing the
momentum. I don't think I want the rough bottom of concrete street to
be the last thing I see.
There
is no scream nor a panicked shout from my mouth, strangely enough. I
just...fall.
At least I think I'm falling, because I can feel the strong wind cutting my
skin like a sharp blade. But would it take this long to just
fall? What are these thoughts all jumbled in my head? So my
brain is yet to be scattered against the hard ground?
I
squint my eyes just a little and look up. I see
something...
...uh,
it can't be. Because she can't be in the
building. Nope, can't be.
Subconsciousness,
I heard, is capable of just about everything.
But
dammit, I'm gonna die. Heck, I might even be dead already, so who cares
if
I just put out my hand a little for her to hold? A blessed dream it
may be, but seeing her and feeling her again are not such a bad prospect.
But...
I
know this hand that holds mine.
I
know this hand better than mine, actually.
I
know these lean, delicate fingers that wrap around my hand with such an
intense grip.
And
I know this hand that will not let me go.
The
strong, overwhelming scent of cherry. The texture of her flowing dark
hair.
The soft fabric of her suit. Her hands on mine....touch. My
senses
overload.
There're
noises--loud gun shots, shattering glasses, and the thick, heavy thud.
And
the next moment, I'm lying on a bed.
With
her at my side.
If
there's been any doubt that this was just a dream, it's confirmed now--yep,
it's a dream.
But
what the heck. Dream or not, I have to ask:
"You
okay?" "You all right?"
Huh.
I'm used to having dreams where the components do *not* talk back, so this
is a new stuff.
"What
are you doing here?" she says, not really noticing the confusion going
on my part.
"I
was gonna ask you the same question." Is that my voice? I
think so. But why on earth does it have to sound so absolutely calm,
just the opposite of how I feel? "I went through a lot of trouble to
get you released."
She
looks at me with her mouth slightly open. She seems incredulous, and
obviously annoyed. And dream or not, she looks out of this
world.
"What
were you thinking, exchanging yourself for us?!?!"
...Okay,
and I'm *definitely* not used to a dream where a component of it
actually
*smacks* me back.
Ow.
So
it's a good time to think that this might *not* be a dream?
She
looks mad, and her eyes are the mixture of fury, anger, and...uh, is
that...gratitude?
"You
should be thanking me," another calm voice that sounds like mine says.
Interesting.
"Thanking
you?!" She wildly gestures in incredulity, in a way only she could.
And
since I don't think I'm under the death threat anymore, my mouth just has to
say what it wants to say.
"You'd
be trapped in the room with the morons if it wasn't for me!" "You'd've
been thrown off the roof it it wasn't for me!!"
I'm
not reading her mind, so guess I better wonder if Manticore kids are also
equipped with telepathy.
In
which case, I'm in big trouble.
"Never
mind." "Forget it."
She's
standing up. Doesn't seem to notice that she has that rope tied
to
her waist though. For some reason, that rope fascinates me.
Where did
she
get it? I wonder what happens if I just pull it...
...which
turns out to be a bad idea. Her face is an inch away from
mine,
and I could feel her breath on me. The sweet scent of cherry flavor
intoxicates
and dazzles me. (Side note: Max loves cherries. Maybe I
can
use this info for the next feeding session? Cherry pie? Cherry
Jubilee?
Ice cream Sundae with chocolate syrups, nuts, and cherries on top?)
And
*now* my brain is doing the panorama picture thing. There are
million
reasons why I shouldn't just move up a little to taste her delicate
lips.
And they're all valid reasons too. But well, again, my body doesn't
want
to listen. Adrenaline up, blood pumping. Instincts. Oh, I hate
them.
However,
my amazing self-control kicks in just in time, and I swallow.
"...Just
go save the kid." "I'll just go save the kid."
She
pulls out the rope and gingerly walks out of the room. But not
before
she checks out her outfit on the mirror. Have to grin at that.
Facing
terrorists
armed with weapons, or falling from the top of a building to
save
a guy aren't that of a big deal, but ruining her suit seems to be.
Can't
blame her. That's a very nice suit.
I
lay back on the bed again, feeling a little...exhausted. I think I
just
fell from the roof.
And
I survived.
And
ended up on a bed with Max.
Once
again proven that I'm lucky?
Absolutely.
<end>