I would like to thank my friend Harriet for introducing me to the Phantom and his world. I have become facinated with everything Phantom and hope you all enjoy this story. There is a lot of humor and romance, but the darkness will intrude as well. Please feel free to review. Enjoy!
PHANTOM OF THE FUTURE
By Robin D.
Prologue
Erik scowled out at the torrential rain that fell from the dark, gray skies, cursing the rotten weather and gathering his black cloak around him tightly. The last thing he needed was to come down with pneumonia. Who would take care of him if he did?
With another expletive thrown skyward he dashed out into the street along the Rue Scribe, quickly making his way past the closing shops and businesses. He reached his destination, hurriedly going inside, thankful to be out of the rain for a few moments. The owner of the store looked up from the paperwork he was working on and his heart started beating a rapid dance as always when the Phantom came calling.
"Good evening, Monsieur," he said nervously. "What can I help you with?" The pen he held in his hand began to tremble.
Erik strode purposefully over to the counter, water dripping from his person onto the floor. "I need to purchase more of the music sheet paper that you had in last week." His tall figure seemed to cast a shadow in the whole store, or at least to the shopkeeper.
The man became even more agitated. He was glad that the Phantom came only in the last few moments before closing. "I would love to sell more of that paper to you, sir, however-we are completely out of it," he informed Erik and cleared his throat. He waited for the outburst he was sure would follow, his pen dropping from his shaking hand.
Instead of shouting, Erik leaned his masked face nearer and whispered in his death voice, "Do you have any at all?"
A smile trembled on the little man's round face. "Y-yes, sir, I have some of this other paper, although it's not quite as good a quality."
Straightening, now Erik shouted, "Then wrap up a whole bundle of it for me!" He turned, his cloak billowing out behind him, and proceeded to look around the shop, picking up a couple of new quill pens and some ink.
Once he'd made his purchases, he exited the store, making his way rapidly along the darkened streets. A burning need to finish the composition he was working on made his strides quick and long. He kept his cloak wrapped securely around the bundle that he carried, not wanting a single piece of paper to be ruined by the rain that was falling in sheets from the black heavens above.
Lightning flashed sharply, illuminating the streets for a few seconds as though it were daylight. Erik hurried even faster, all the while cursing the lightning. How he hated it! He started across the bridge, knowing that once across it he could slip down to the secret entrance and thus be out of the wet and wind. Forked streaks of lightning cracked through the inky skies and thunder sounded so close that Erik feared that he would be deafened. He tugged the cloak even closer, not an easy feat due to the wind that constantly whipped around him.
It was even worse up on the bridge, and though Erik was strong and surefooted he found himself having to hold onto the metal rail to stay upright. Lightning streaked down, striking the bridge and powerful electricity sizzled along the handrail, into Erik's left hand and up his arm. White, brilliant light exploded inside his head and a fierce roar filled his ears. Before the blackness enveloped him he wondered, am I dying?
CHAPTER ONE
Someone was talking but Erik couldn't make out what they were saying. Pain radiated from different points of his body, forcing him to lie still for fear of creating more. Again the voice spoke and this time Erik could tell that it was a woman's voice, but still could not decipher the words. Even though his eyes were closed he could tell that there was light wherever he was.
Slowly the events leading up to then began to seep into his memory. He remembered the horrible storm and the lightning that had struck him. No wonder he was hurting! Perhaps he was in heaven, or more likely Hell, considering the heinous acts he'd committed in the past.
Erik opened his eyes a mere slit and was blinded by the light. Quickly he shut them again, wincing at the pain. He cleared his throat, or attempted to, finding it raw and dry.
"Light... hurts eyes," he croaked out, not even recognizing his voice.
The sound of clothing rustling told him that the woman or someone was moving around to his right. In a moment the light was extinguished, easing the strain on his eyes.
"Is that better, sir?" This time when the woman spoke, Erik understood her words. They were indeed English, but she spoke with a strange accent that he couldn't place.
He nodded assent and tried to open his eyes again, finding it easier with the lighting so dim. It took a little while for his vision to clear, but not too long. Within seconds he could see that he was in some kind of a hospital room. The woman must be a nurse, he thought, then caught sight of her. She was attired in a strange blue outfit of pants and a short-sleeved shirt with a V neckline. He was shocked to discover that she wore pants instead of a skirt, along with some sort of soft-looking white shoes. All the women he had ever seen wore dresses or skirts.
He did not know what to think of the way she was dressed, so he said nothing about it.
"Where am I?" he rasped the question at her, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"In St. Mary's hospital."
"I can see that I am in a hospital, but what country is it?" he said becoming irritated.
"The U.S., sir. Are your blankets OK? Are you chilly?" she asked starting to fuss with the tan blanket and white sheet that covered him.
"I assure you that I am fine, madam! Now please tell me what the 'U.S.' is," he demanded, trying to make his voice imposing. It was difficult to do so when he sounded more like a frog than a human.
The blonde haired nurse wore her hair back in a simple ponytail and it shook from side to side as she wagged a finger at him. "Now, now. No need to get your panties in a bunch, sir," she admonished him gently. "We're in the United States of America," she said giving him a quizzical look. "You've heard of it, right?"
The New World! How in blazes had he come to be in America? Just then his gaze caught sight of a strange box with glass in it fixed high on the wall in front of his bed. He stared at it for several moments trying to figure out what it was and if it would cause him any harm.
The nurse must have noticed him looking at it because she picked up a rectangular object from the bed beside him and handed it to him. Erik took it gently, staring up at the woman and waiting for her to explain. He was not disappointed.
"This is your remote control for the TV. Just press this button and it'll come on, OK?" she said and turned to check an odd plastic bag hanging beside his bed.
What was a TV? And what in God's name did "OK" mean? Why was this woman dressed in men's apparel? His head began to throb with the effort it was taking to try and sort all this out. Suddenly he wondered why this woman showed no fear of him and he reached his hands up to his face, discovering that there was no mask there, but some sort of strange cloth-like wrapping. He pressed his face gently and moved his mouth slightly. A slow burning sensation began to spread across the skin of his face.
The lightning had burned his face and God only knew what else! His already terrible face was probably hideous now! He almost moaned in misery, but forced himself to remain strong.
"If you need anything, just press the other button and a nurse will come to help you. Your doctor will be in soon to see you," she assured him and left before he could ask her more.
He slumped his head back against his pillows for a moment then lifted it again, deciding that he had better familiarize himself with his odd surroundings. To his right was another box-like contraption that beeped at him while a red line bounced up and down across the glass face of it. When he attempted to move his right arm, something pricked him. Upon examination, it appeared that some sort of needle was implanted in his hand with a long, thin tube making a trail from him to the strange, clear bag. He pulled the thin, cotton gown they had clothed him in away from his neck and looked down at his nudity. Nude! And little round discs were placed at different invertvals upon his chest. Their strings seemed to belong to the machine that beeped. What in heavens were they doing to him?
Further away from the bed was a pair of ugly windows that showed that it was after sun down. Erik could see several orbs of light and wondered at their source, for they did not look like any flames or lanterns that he had ever seen before.
In the corner was an odd lamp that glowed dimly. Again there appeared to be no flame and Erik could only wonder at its energy source. In the opposite corner stood what resembled an armoire only smaller and very ugly to his way of thinking. He was used to ornate pieces of furniture, things of great beauty, not these sterile, cold pieces. On the wall to his left was the door to his room. It was closed, preventing him from seeing what lie beyond. The walls were a crisp, flat white with only a few pictures to break the monotony of them.
Tired now, Erik lay his head back on his pillows and decided that he needed to rest. He sensed that things weren't going to get any clearer for some time and it would be best to face things when he was a little stronger. How he loathed feeling like a newborn kitten, helpless and defenseless. The New World, eh? He hoped he would find the answers to his many questions, but doubted it would be any time soon. Sleep came to claim him as he lay musing about the circumstances in which he found himself.
Some time later a faint sound woke him. He struggled to clear the fog that held his mind in obscurity, blinking his eyes rapidly and turning his head towards the sound that he had heard. He found a man clad in a white jacket standing at the foot of the bed.
He smiled when he saw that Erik was awake. "Well, well. You're finally awake, Mr. Doe. How are you feeling?"
"First of all, Monsieur, my name is not Mr. Doe and secondly I have known people who felt better after being trampled by horses," Erik responded. His voice was slightly better and he was able to sound slightly more forceful.
"I'm sorry, sir. I realize that Doe can't be your last name, but we don't have any name listed for you because you had no identification on you. So if you'll tell me what it is we can put it on your chart," the man smiled reassuringly again.
"Who are you?" Erik asked, choosing to ignore the man's statement.
"My name is Dr. Edwards and you're my patient," the man said extending his hand to Erik. Erik took it and shook it briefly.
"Pray tell what is my condition?"
"I don't blame you for being concerned, sir. It seems that you were struck by lightning and have suffered severe burns on your face and some minor ones at various places. We had trouble getting a good heart rhythm at first but then you responded to our efforts. You're going to be weak for a while and we'll need to have a plastic surgeon look at your face, but otherwise you should be fine. Uh, there is one other thing I need to mention though," Dr. Edwards paused.
Becoming impatient, Erik motioned with his hand and said, "Out with it, Doctor!"
"OK."
There was that word again, Erik thought.
"If you keep using drugs so heavily you're going to be dead before long, lightning or no lightning. I can recommend a good rehab if you like," Dr. Edwards informed him sternly.
Anger flooded through Erik. How dare this man speak to him in such a manner!
"I do not wish you to recommend a 'rehab', whatever that may be and you'll be more respectful of your tone of voice to me from this moment on. Is that understood?"
Dr. Edwards moved in closer to Erik and he thought for a moment that the doctor intended some kind of harm.
"Let's get something straight right off. I am the doctor and you are my patient. You may be used to running the show wherever you're from, but here in this room, in this hospital I'm in charge for as long as you're here. Got it?" The man's green eyes bore into Erik's and Erik was forced to admit a grudging respect for him. After all, didn't he insist that the managers and other employees of the opera house obey him?
"Point taken, good doctor," he said, his anger dwindling away. "What is a plastic surgeon?"
Dr. Edwards shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. "I can't believe in this day and age that someone doesn't know what a plastic surgeon is. Where are you from?"
"France. Paris to be exact."
"Really? They have plastic surgeons there, though." The doctor shrugged. "Anyway, a plastic surgeon is someone who can repair damage to someone's face or reconstruct it to be more beautiful, according to the patient's point of view. They can also repair skin on other parts of the body as well."
Unbidden, Erik's hands came up to touch the wrapping around his face. Could it be true that in this New World they had such magical powers? That you could actually restore a face to what it should have been? How was this possible? What kind of sorcery did they use? As a master magician, Erik was no stranger to trickery, but never had he heard of such a thing.
"Do you mean to say that you have persons who are capable of repairing hideously scarred skin and making it appear normal?" he inquired incredulously.
Dr. Edwards chuckled. The way this man acted was as though he'd never heard of such a thing. "Yes. And we have several excellent surgeons on staff here that can perform the operations that you need. If you're agreeable, that is."
Erik's mind whirled with the possibilities such a procedure would open to him. Perhaps he wouldn't have to hide in fear of persecution any longer. Perhaps he would be able to find a woman to love him who would not shrink from his touch or scream when she looked at him. Perhaps he would drive himself mad with all these thoughts. He turned his attention back to Dr. Edwards.
"If such a thing can be done, then so be it," he affirmed.
"I have to warn you though. The results aren't immediate so you'd have to be patient while you heal."
Erik would have snorted if it would not have caused great pain. "After living the life I have all these years, I can assure you that as long as there is a chance of definite improvement, I will pursue this at all costs."
"What do you mean by that exactly?" Dr. Edwards face showed clearly his puzzlement.
Erik turned and gazed out the window at the orbs of light there, wondering just how much to tell the doctor. He returned his gaze to the doctor.
"I have been deformed all my life, from the time my mother gave birth to me. This was not all done by the lightning that struck me. To have any hope that I could have a normal if not a handsome face-" Tears clogged Erik's throat and he was unable to continue.
Dr. Edwards nodded his head sagely, comprehending what Erik was telling him.
"In the morning one of the surgeons will be in to see you and talk with you more about the surgery. For now though, try and get some rest. What is your name? We really need to have it on your file," Dr. Edwards insisted.
Erik pondered on what last name to give himself since he did not have one. After a few moments he made a decision.
"My name is Erik. Erik Giry," was his reply. Since he had never used a last name he chose to use the name of one of the few people in the world that he trusted completely.
"Well, Mr. Giry, get some shut-eye and I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" Dr. Edwards moved towards the door, intending to leave.
"Dr. Edwards?"
"Yes?"
"I do have one other question," Erik informed him.
"Which is?"
"What does the word 'OK' mean? I am not familiar with some of these foreign terms, you see."
Edwards chuckled. "It means 'alright' or 'fine', depending on which context you use it." Seeing that this further baffled his patient he explained further. "If I'm going to ask you if you're fine I would say 'Are you OK?'. Or if I asked how you were, you would reply, 'I'm OK.' See what I mean? You could also use it to mean 'yes'. If I asked you to do something you might say 'OK.' Got it?"
Erik nodded, thankful to have at least one question answered.
"Good. If you need anything, just ring your bell and the nurses will help you out," Dr. Edwards closed the door quietly behind him.
"OK," Erik said experimentally to himself. "I'm OK, how are you?" He laughed softly to himself over how strange this word sounded in his own voice. He tried it out a few more times then fell silent. He pondered the fact that he was not dreaming. He had too much pain to be asleep, he knew. Yet how could he truly be in a different country and apparently somewhere in the future as well? He wondered what year it was exactly.
There was nothing in his room that indicated a date at all.
Sighing, he lowered his gaze to his lap and caught sight of the rectangular thing they called a call button and remembered that the nurse said the control for the TV was on it as well. What the devil was a TV? Well, since sleep did not seem forthcoming, he might as well find out. Gingerly he pressed the indicated button and prepared himself for whatever would happen. There was a brief clicking sound followed by a low hum of some sort. Suddenly voices began coming from the box-thing hanging on the wall. Erik looked up just in time to see images coming into view.
"Buy Purina for your dog and keep him healthy and active for years to come," a man was saying while a large black dog ran happily through a field. Erik was watching the animal intently, thinking it a handsome animal when the picture changed abruptly.
Now the box thing showed a man attired in a strange sort of dress suit sitting behind an odd looking desk next to a dark haired woman dressed in a suit jacket and blouse.
"What is this?" Erik asked out loud to no one. "And why is she dressed in such a mannish style?"
"Welcome back to NCS News desk," the woman said.
"Thank you," Erik replied.
"Today is September 20th, 2004. An aircraft carrier off the coast of California went down earlier this evening under suspicious circumstances. There to find out the unfolding details is our chief Western correspondent Adam Phillips. Adam?"
September 20th of the year 2004. Erik was dumbfounded. How was it possible that he could have been transported through so much time? He quelled the panic that rose within him, wanting to run out into the hallway and shake someone until they told him what he wanted to know. Which was? Too many things. While fear held him in its grip, fascination and curiosity were also strong within him. Hadn't he always been obsessed with the future and inventions? Hadn't he always wanted to know what the world would be like centuries from his time?
Erik calmed himself, knowing that losing control would not serve him well. All his questions could be answered if he only took advantage of the opportunity he'd been given. And what better way to do that than with a new face?
"Oh, Erik, what are you thinking? You don't know a soul here, you have no money and no idea even where you're at or where to go," he said out loud again.
He started watching the box-TV again, soaking up what the man and woman were telling him. It took him a while to understand that though he could see and hear everything they said and did, they however, could not see or hear him. If he had been feeling stronger he would have liked to get up and inspect the TV closer. He noticed that in the right upper corner of the TV there was a number. He wondered if there were other things to look at and pressed the button again. The picture flipped and music unlike he had ever heard assaulted him, making him jump. A man with wild, shaggy hair was jumping around on a large stage while an audience screamed at him. Erik watched intently, noticing that they seemed to be yelling in approval instead of jeering him off the stage. He played an odd instrument that resembled a large violin, but sounded nothing like it. He found it difficult to distinguish a singular melody because each instrument seemed to be playing on of its own instead of supplementing the main melody. Erik pressed the button again when the man began screaming something he couldn't understand, making his head hurt.
Music and singing again. This time though it was quieter, yet still strange. A woman in pants and a short sleeved shirt of some sort walked through a barn filled with horses while singing, "Any man of mine better be proud of me..."
Erik found himself entranced by her dark eyes and exotic beauty, and the fact that her clothes left very little to the imagination. He watched her sing and dance until her song was over and a program started about a psychic. Disgruntled, he changed the program again. More music, but the woman singing this time made him bolt up in his bed. Her voice was haunting, soaring, magnificent and Erik was electrified by it. He did not know the song she sang, but he was mesmerized by her cinnamon brown eyes and the emotion she put into her performance.
It was not opera that she sang, but very pleasant to his ears just the same. When the song ended, he caught the name that showed in the bottom corner of the screen. Celine Dion, it said. Celine Dion. Of course she would be French, Erik thought, with such a voice and such beauty, she'd have to be. Then she was gone and some other music came on. Disgusted, Erik kept clicking the button until the TV shut off again. Now that he was thoroughly exhausted, Erik knew that sleep would not be far off. He closed his eyes, going over the details about the magic surgery that Dr. Edwards had told him earlier. He fell asleep dreaming of performing with Celine Dion in a perfect duet.
"Mr. Giry, time to take your medication now. Wake up, Mr. Giry."
It was a different nurse that woke him, Erik noticed. The square piece of plastic she wore on her shirt said her name was Delores. She was a plump woman with short curly, gray hair and glasses. She had an air of authority and efficiency about her.
"Hello, madame. What is it?" he asked sleepily.
"Sorry to have to wake you up, but it's time to take your meds," she repeated and pressed a button that elevated his head some more. "Here's your water and here's your pills."
Erik accepted both and downed the pills quickly. He was not fond of taking medication, but felt that the staff here knew what was best for him. He hoped. He handed the cup that had contained the water back to her.
"What time is it, madame?"
"Six a.m. Are you feeling hungry?" Delores asked as she checked his IV bag.
Erik thought for a moment before answering. Yes, he did feel hungry.
"Yes. Would it be possible for me to have some breakfast?"
"Of course. They start serving at seven so it won't be too long now," she replied and pulled out an odd contraption from a drawer in the stand beside his bed. She moved as if to lay it on him and Erik retreated from her touch.
Delores frowned and shook her head. "I'm not going to hurt you, Mr. Giry. I just want to take your blood pressure."
"Take it? Will you give it back? And what do you intend to do with it once you have it?"
She laughed outright at him. "You're something else, Mr. Giry. I don't take your blood pressure away from you; I just need to check it, to make sure you're OK. I'll mark it down on your chart."
"Oh. OK, then," he agreed reluctantly and held his arm out to her.
She wrapped the blue band around his arm, securing it with a strip of what looked to him of tiny black teeth. A long black tube ran from it to a bulb, which Delores began to squeeze. The band began to swell and add pressure to his arm. She kept squeezing until the band was almost painfully tight on his arm, then she twisted a small silver knob at the top of the bulb. Erik could feel and hear the air leaving the band. In another moment, Delores undid the black teeth, which made a scraping noise and took it away, tucking it back in the drawer it had come out of.
"Was it OK?" Erik asked. It was getting easier to use this new word.
"A little high, but that's to be expected. I need to take your temperature now."
She produced another instrument, which she placed in his ear for a second and then withdrew. "98.7. No fever, that's great. OK, Mr. Giry, breakfast will be soon. Just rest 'til then." She departed swiftly, leaving Erik to puzzle over seeing more gadgets.
Medicine certainly seemed to have come a long way in the past couple of centuries. His stomach growled lightly, reminding him that he hadn't taken food for quite some time. He hoped breakfast would not be far off.
