Chapter 2: Alternate world.

Erica discovers something shocking about New York, and about herself.

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Erica sipped her cup of tea and grimaced. She could tell she was in a city of coffee drinkers; it was like bad McD's tea. She was having a very early breakfast in the hotel's cafe, about to start on a flaky croissant and a banana. Already a roll and more fruit was secreted in her handbag. She had brought down with her the morning newspaper that she found folded outside her room door when she stepped out - something to read, especially while eating alone was a good idea. Last night at dinner she wished she had had a book with her or at least the tourist brochures she'd left up in her room. Oh well.

Erica unfolded the paper and received her first two shocks of the day. Her tea cup clattered in it's saucer. As she read, she forgot about eating. The paper was 'The Daily Bugle'. How did she come to be reading a copy of that? She checked the date; no, it wasn't April 1st. The second piece that startled her was the main headline: 'Big Apple Bites Spider-Man', and under the headline, a photo of Spider-Man swinging somewhere.

She read the story in increasing astonishment. It seemed that the Daily Bugle had got information 'from a reliable source', that Spider-Man was no more. She wryly noted that there was very little substance in the article to back up such a big headline, but it was not the fact that Spider-Man was presumed dead that shocked her. It was the fact that there was a Spider-Man at all. To her, Spider-Man, and the Daily Bugle were pieces of fiction.

Spider-Man was a comic book character. He wasn't real, fer cryin' out loud! She quickly turned the pages of the newspaper, scanning the other news items. Besides reporting stuff such as 'New tunnel work delayed', and 'Mystery virus strikes three', there were several mention of super heroes and villains, and in a sensationalist manner - she guessed the Daily Bugle was very much in the tabloid style. Lowering the paper onto the table, she wondered if another newspaper, the New York Times for example, contained articles on superheroes.

She rushed through the rest of her breakfast, and swallowed down the lukewarm tea without noticing it's taste this time, and folded up the paper again to take it with her back to her room. On the way, she saw rooms with newspapers still outside the doors - the occupants hadn't got up yet. Almost furtively, she went along, looking at the papers until she found a copy of the New York Times and with a look around, she quickly bent down, picked the paper up and tried to look as though she were walking casually back to her room.

Once there, she spread open the paper on her bed and started to read it. Again, there were news items about super heroes, and being a more respectable newspaper, the Times' reportage was more restrained and matter of fact. Erica sat back against the wall to think. She had somehow been transported to New York. O.K. What if that hadn't been while she had amnesia or something. What if there had been no time at all between passing out in New Zealand and waking up in New York? Today's date in the paper was the same date as it had been back in New Zealand yesterday, which figured, allowing for the normal time difference between the two countries.

And she supposed if such a thing were possible, than why should she be surprised to learn that certain fiction was now fact? No reason. Except… except things like that just couldn't happen… could they? She had to find out. If it could, if it was the case, then it was no use going to the Consulate - they wouldn't be able to help her get back to her 'real' home.

She sighed, still half in disbelief at the direction her thoughts were taking. She could be here longer than she thought. And then, there was the extra strength she discovered she had yesterday - or did she just imagine that? But… those muscles…

Erica decided to test it out. She hopped off the bed and took hold of one of it's legs. She felt silly, and was glad no one else was there to observe her. Slowly, she stood upright, and without effort, lifted the double-sized bed up… and over her head, balancing it with no trouble at all.

In amazement she put it down again a lot faster than she had picked it up, and stood, half bemused and half incredulous at what she had just done. She looked at the other side of the bed, then did a standing jump over it. She turned, took a couple of steps and leapt over the bed towards the far wall and landed in a crouch. As she straightened up, she accidentally knocked the chair over and the lamp off the writing desk. She caught the chair with one hand before it hit the floor and then the lamp before it had even fallen off the table.

Erica paused with the lamp in her hand, and thoughtfully replaced it. She looked through the pile of brochures she had left on the desk last night, and picked a couple out. All at once she strode over to the door, put her jacket on, threw her bag over her shoulder and left the room.

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The light gleamed warmly off the surface of the table, and shone onto Erica's face as she turned the pages. She closed the book and stared non-seeing, into the distance. She stirred, picked up the notes she had written and gathered the books together. Returning the books, she left the library and walked into the sun.

She remembered a park nearby she had passed on the way to the library, and headed that way. She was hungry, and looking at her watch, saw that it was late morning. The park was full of folding chairs that could be moved and placed where you wanted to sit; there were already quite a few people who had the same idea about lunch - the seats were being used fast. Erica found an unoccupied one and took it where she could sit and look out over the lawn and over tress across to the skyscrapers of Midtown. She took from her handbag the roll wrapped in a paper napkin and a couple of pieces of fruit that she had saved from breakfast. With only a credit card for money, and no other way of getting small change she had to plan ahead. Digging her notes from her pocket where she had stuffed them, she re-read them while munching.

She knew what had happened to her wasn't normal, even in this version of the world where superheroes were part of the reality. She had gone to the library to see if she could find out when a divergence took place from her reality and this one. She had narrowed it down to the mid-thirties, or at least the beginning of World War Two. She hadn't been able to pinpoint any one event where it all changed though. The differences were very subtle, as far as she could tell, with the memory of her scant knowledge of New York and American history.

She placed the notes into her handbag and finished her lunch in the warm sun. She got up, feeling the need to be active. It was a novel, if frightening feeling - so this was what it was like to be fit. But not only fit… She was itching to explore her new-found body further. How high could she jump? But… not here, she had to find somewhere private, and how easy was that going to be, as a stranger in a city of this size?

In the meantime, Erica decided to be a tourist for the afternoon, do some sight-seeing and explore the city while she had the chance; she had been so full of purpose that morning that she had strode past the sights of midtown Manhattan on her way to the branch of the New York Public Library without seeing anything. At least she had fitted in with the crowds of workers on their way to work. She consulted one of her brochures that included a relatively detailed map of New York for a free give-away, and set off.

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What a stupid thing to do... Erica stood lost in a maze of alleyways. She had taken what she thought was a possible short-cut from one block to another, but the route had twisted and she lost her orientation. Not many people were about, but Erica tried following a couple until they went into a side door to a building.

What now? She continued walking, aware that even in the day, walking in unfamiliar alleyways in the middle of Manhattan was not a good idea. Big bins and skips, rubbish blown out, sodden and collected in corners like dead things, remnants of a civilisation. It was later in the afternoon now, turning cooler, and the office buildings would soon be disgorging their commuters on their way home for the evening.

Shadows gathered on the ground where she was, though she could still see the sun at the tops of the building when she tilted her head back to look up. Maybe she could work out roughly which direction to go by the sun and the shadows cast by buildings. Let's see, the sun sets in the west…

She was still looking up when suddenly she had that urgent, imperative sensation in her head that she had the day before. She leapt straight up, and narrowly missed being hit by a speeding bike messenger, who also had the idea of taking a short-cut. In split-second amazement, Erica found she had leapt about two stories high, and then she panicked - she was also going to fall two stories!

Without really thinking of what she was doing, she grabbed at the wall halfway down as she fell. And stuck. To. The. Wall. Terrified, Erica clung, arms outstretched either side of her head. She laid her head against the grainy concrete and looked at her hands. She was clinging to the surface of the building by her hands. She was scared; getting stronger and faster, while not normal, was something she could sort of cope with as it was basically an extension of normal human abilities. But this… sticking to walls was just not normal, not something she could comprehend, not at the moment.

Erica closed her eyes, she felt her face redden. She couldn't stay up the wall. She had to get down. She opened her eyes, held her breath and… let go. As simple as that. She landed in a crouch on the concrete ground below, aware that she had not even felt the impact of a landing from that height.

As she stood up, she felt that her knees should give way or something - she was shaky and cold. She wanted to head to bed and stay there, burrowed under the blankets, until this nightmare stopped, went away.

A huge sense of homesickness washed over her - she wanted to be home, near friends she could talk to, with her familiar belongings around her, her lounge with it's large bookshelves and views over the harbour, the rows of CDs of the music she loved. Yeah, a comfy chair and a good cup of tea. She took in a deep shuddering breath and let it out again. The Hotel Wellington was the best she could do for now.

Erica walked away from the alleyway, and found herself on the street a turn later. She discovered she was closer to the hotel than she had thought; about five blocks away. Walking anonymously through the steadily increasing crowds, Erica was glad of the activity. It helped her to not think about what had just happened.

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Once back in her hotel room, her sanctuary in New York, she dropped her bag and jacket on the floor, took off her shoes, and went into the ensuite to wash her hands and face. She studied herself in the mirror, and was almost surprised to see that she didn't look any different, only flushed. She went into the bedroom and her eye fell on the newspapers, now neatly folded on the bed.

She pulled out the Daily Bugle and read the headlines and accompanying article again. Various thoughts went through her head, as she stared unblinking at the photo of Spider-Man. Mentally, she shuffled and indexed all that she had discovered over the last two days. She was still scared, but now she had the barest outline of a plan, something to do.

She only hoped it would help.

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Next: And what of Peter Parker?