Chapter 28: I Wish I Could Live In Your World, Part II:

Be careful what you wish for...

Dreamspace: "Alright, ready for pickup." Rose and Ragnar were at the extraction point, awaiting Bertran's pickup beam.

…

Meanwhile, across dimensions, Susan Anderson was once again shopping mall (although, be it admitted, more to eat than to actually shop) with Rhonda and Ashley, and Ashley's sister, Aubrey. They'd already been to the outdoor shop. "Why," asked Susan, "in the world would I want to go camping outdoors? I guess you know that my desire to be eaten alive by mosquitos is somewhere in the negative numbers? I've heard those things are big enough to suck a dog dry. A large dog, too."

"Hey, not where we're going!" Ashley was dead set on convincing her. "I heard there's tons of bats in that area! You can bet they keep the mosquitos down!"

"Is that supposed to be a selling point?"

"Hey, uh, Suze?" Rhonda was glancing at her watch. Ever since she'd gotten a brand, new iWatch, it seemed to Susan like she couldn't keep her eyes off of it.

But now it looked like she was glancing at it for more than her usual adoration. "Uh, Sooozzz…"

"Yeeeesssss, Rhrrrrooonnnndddda?"

"Know what time it is?"

"Time for you to get a watch? No, wait, you've already got that taken care of. In, like, spades."

"Em...A...Eye...Ell delivery?"

"Ohhhhhhhh...gosh! Sorry, Ash, we, we, gotta go!" She whipped her phone out at what seemed like hypersonic velocity, fingers already thumbing it down to the "cab" button.

At they left, Ashley turned to Aubrey and asked, "What do you suppose that was all about?"

…..

The mail hadn't quite arrived yet, which suited them both just fine. Susan was positive her brother would somehow divine what was in the envelopes she was receiving, and would give her absolutely no peace whatsoever about it. After all, she was the one who'd always said comics were "stupid," and for "little kids," in spite of the fact he was five years older than she was. But she'd stated, on more than one occasion, that she was obviously referring primarily to mental age, not physical one. So yeah, a need for a certain amount of secrecy. Fortunately, his job frequently kept him from the house at the exact time when the mail was delivered. So with Susan's parents out, they had the house to themselves, at least for the moment.

Rhonda had taken to reading the comic with her when it arrived. Susan's newly found interest (Rhonda would have said, "fascination" or perhaps some stronger term) in comics did not extend beyond this one, Gold Lantern. But Rhonda, to her mild annoyance, tended to hang around, checking out the back issues she might've missed from Susan's ever-growing storehouse in the closet. Have to get some sort of lockable cabinet, thought Susan. Maybe with something I can put a padlock to, as well. And a combination lock. And maybe one of those retina readers. And a Kirlian aura reader…

"You know," said Rhonda, from the floor, where she was sitting, "I notice this comic seems to time-skip occasionally. Frankly, it makes it harder to read, to me."

"Yeah, I know," said Susan, browsing through the latest edition in her hands. She was kneeling on her bed, her fascination with the comic evident (or, more accurately, Rhonda grinned, to herself, with a certain character in the comic. "My best friend has a husbando"). Rhonda wasn't sure if she even knew she'd responded, and if so, how. She was about to tease her about it when Susan spoke up. "But you know, it's odd you should mention that." Oh, well, guess she had been paying attention, after all. "This issue seems to go back a couple of years or so. And, and Rhonda! Look! I recognize this place! This, this red dimension where they found me!"

"Now, Suze," said Rhonda sternly, "You know that was all a dream. You're imagining this. This place looks familiar 'cause your mind's making it all up as you go along, so of course it looks familiar. I thought we'd settled that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. And me, constantly looking up stuff about him on the 'net doesn't help. But I wonder why they're including this now? I mean, isn't it, like, over and done with?"

Rhonda shrugged. "Guess not, or they wouldn't have brought it up. Why? What about this dimension that you think you recognize would make it important, like, right now, in the canon timeline?" Rhonda was trying, and failing, due to her own interest in her friend's thinking processes, to keep her from falling overboard again into I Was Really There Land.

"Well, look, all these red stars, or whatever they are just like I remember them—red sparks seen from an incredible distance. Why would I imagine a thing like that?" She showed her the page with the red void.

"You wouldn't...then. You're imagining that you're remembering it now. You're mind's making it up as you go along."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. There's no other explanation, is there?" She returned to her perusal of the comic. Her parents could come in any minute, and she didn't want them finding out she was Wasting Her Money On A Despised Children's Book, either. So the comic was going right back up into the closet ASAP "Yeah, I—" Suddenly, she gasped, an expression of shock and fear on her face. Rhonda looked up in alarm. Susan had thrown her precious comic on the bed in front of her, her face more pale than Rhonda had ever seen it. "What is it, Suze?"

"It...I…" She gingerly picked up the comic, holding it carefully, as though it were red-hot. "Look." She turned to a specific page, the one she'd been reading, indicating one panel. Rhonda looked.

The panel showed a cartoonish devil, red-skinned, yellow-eyed, grinning vacantly at the reader. It seemed to be floating along all by itself. "Okay, now, you know this is just your imagination demanding a little overtime here, Suze. I mean, c'mon. Work with a girl, here."

Susan seemed reluctant to even get near the book again. "Come on, Suze! It's just a comic! And that's just a drawing! Somebody's imagination! Look, best thing for you to do, is get back down here and read it some more. Like therapy or something. So come on now." And she went back down to the floor, where the back issues were. Surely, once Susan saw the differences (and of course there would be differences) she'd calm down.

But Rhonda could understand her friend being freaked out. After all, she didn't remember the actual, real boys who had attacked her, but she sure remembered the imaginary devils and what they'd done to her.

"But...but, Rhonda," there was still fear in Susan's voice, "Don't you remember? I told you about these things! When I first got out of rehab! Remember?"

Rhonda felt a cold draft pass over her. Susan had mentioned something about some "devils" in her talking with her. "But now, Suze. Look. Yeah, okay, you mentioned devils. But c'mon! Listen to me: you may not wanna hear this, but you gotta. You were attacked, beaten, and gang raped, fa' God's sakes, by a bunch of perverts with a nauseating notion of entertainment. If you were gonna dream about 'em at all, you sure wouldn't dream about 'em as angels of sweetness and light! So of course you'd dream about 'em as devils! I mean, right? And you probably saw a picture of a devil somewhere before the attack, so...there you go.

"This comic isn't jogging your memories, it's creating them, as you go along."

Susan began to calm down. Her heartrate slowed down closer to normal. "O...kay. Yeah, you're right, that's the only possible explanation, isn't there? I mean...it's gotta be." She ran her hand through her long blond hair. She calmed down a bit more. Picked her magazine back up, and once again, sat on the bed, reading. "It's just...it seems so...like I really remember it!

"Look," said Rhonda, "Before you go any further, here's an idea. Talk to me, or write this down, of all the things you think you're remembering, and that way, when you see the discrepancies, it'll help reassure you that this is just an imaginary story."

Susan looked at her in surprise. Rhonda was pretty savvy. "Say! That's a good idea!" She picked a pencil and paper, and began to chew on the eraser end. "Okay," she scribbled furiously, not really wanting to dwell on this scene in her mind, "the devils, of course, and what they did to me, those funky asteroids with the big hanger-like rooms in 'em…" Rhonda stopped in her perusal, and looked up at her. Maybe this was exactly the sort of therapy her friend needed, to get it out of her system.

"Well, I remember the attacks, but, okay, yeah, I get that—symbolism an' all—and, uh—" She looked a bit embarrassed all of a sudden, thought Rhonda. "I remember wanting to, uh, like, kiss him, like, really bad…" Her writing was forgotten, as she felt for the memories...she turned the page. Rhonda picked up the paper and pencil.

"Okay, Suze. Let's go on here. It'd be natural for you to wanna kiss him, I mean, not only did the guy in the dream save you, he's a smokin' hot stud, so let's—What is it?" Susan had started shaking, slightly, and Rhonda immediately got up and sat by her on the bed. "Right. The attack, and, yeah, there they are slicing and dicing. And burning an' busting. But now, c'mon. They're saving you. Isn't that a good thing? And boy, are those devils ever gettin' theirs. After this, you won't ever haveta deal with 'em again. Say, what's up with his arm, anyway? Oh, yeah, isn't he supposed to be, like, part monster or somethin'? But, okay, I mean, we've covered that. There are a lot of superheroes in comics," she emphasized, "who have that kinda thing goin.' You must'a caught a glimpse of one from your brother's collection. Didn't you once tell me you used ta sneak into his room and tear up his stash? Who's the white-haired chick? She is? Now you've got me wantin' to read about her. Now let's go on. O….kay, that blond girl does look like she's permanently attached to his face like a moray eel, and, yeah, he's lookin' like, totally surprised as hell, but, but it's still symbolism, and, and this is just what we're lookin' for. I mean, your guy, your dream guy, wouldn't be, right? I mean, he's, he'd be a hero, he'd be used to gettin' tackle-smackered all the time. Besides, you, the real you, I mean, you wouldn't just haul off and put a super smooch on the superhero who saved you, I can't see it, even if he did save you, you can't even wear a conservative two piece bathing suit without turning red as a tomato. So, still symbolism...now, c'mon, Suze, let's go on." She gave the comic back to Susan and turned back to the paper, intent on writing down more symbolism.

Susan's voice was shaky. "O...kay, you've, you've gotta be right, I mean, no freakin' way I could have—" she turned a page" —OH, MY GHHHOOOOOOOD" She threw the comic down on the bed between them, and hitched away, both hands over her face. Even so, blotches of tomato-red began to creep around the boundaries of the area covered by her hands.

"What the hell?" Rhonda reached for the comic.

"No! Don't! Rhonda!" Keeping one hand over her eyes, she began to fish around for the comic, intent on keeping her friend from seeing it. Unfortunately, Rhonda had already pounced on it, cackling.

"Too late, Suze!" She opened the mag, even as she dodged a tomato-red Susan. "Besides, it's just a comic book! It's for ki-I mean, young people. How bad could it bee-EEEEEEEEEEE!" She stared, entranced, at the images on the page. "Holy SHIT, Susan! What are you DOING to that poor man?"

"My life is over," groaned Susan, who'd gone back to sitting on the bed. She put her face in her hands again, as though Hiding Out From The World, With Little Success. The tomato-red factor in her face kept on spreading. By now it had reached her hair line. After a moment, Rhonda joined her, sitting by her on the bed. "Now I'll never get married. I'll have to become a porn star…"

"Okay, look. This is just proof positive it's not you. I mean, you...you wouldn't, uh, do anything like this….? I mean...er…would you?"

Susan didn't say anything, but just kept hiding behind her hands. "My life is over," she repeated. "Now, look," said Rhonda sternly. "Like I said, proof positive." She looked back at the comic, unfolded a page into "portrait" orientation, then unfolded it again. And again. "Ho Lee Crap. I didn't think they could put stuff like this inna comic book." She checked the title to make sure it wasn't a men's magazine, shipped by mistake.

It wasn't.

"It...oh...I can't look...does it show...everything?"

Rhonda checked, turning a couple of pages, unfolding a couple more. "Uh….yeeeeeaaaaaahh, it, it, pretty much does. Boy, does it show everything."

"My life is over."

"It is so not over! Now, look. This is just some generic long-haired blond girl. It doesn't give her name or anything. Do you know how long long-haired blond girls have been the damsels in distress in stories and pop culture? Eons. Literal eons. Besides, you don't have a birthmark on your left hip, anyway. Now do you?"

Susan didn't say anything, but just started to shake all the more behind her hands. The tomato-redness of her face was increasing, not decreasing. "Okay," said Rhonda, in a voice of finality, "we're gonna settle this once and for all." She took hold of Susan's upper arm and hauled her by main strength, into the bathroom. "Come on. Let's compare 'em."

….

Ten minutes later: both girls were once again sitting on Susan's bed. Susan was still hiding her face behind her hands, sitting cross-legged. "O….kay…" began Rhonda, numbly. She felt like her brain had been novacained. "I, uh, still say there's gotta be a logical explanation, Suze. I know! You, you gotta have been talking, talking in your sleep, there in the hospital, an' somebody, somebody, maybe an nurse's aid or somethin,' came along, an' an, heard you, and, and sold the idea, the rights to the comic company. I mean, that happens, doesn't it? Wasn't it two young boys years ago sold the rights for the character of SuperiorMan, for like, what? A couple hundred? Or so? And of course, whoever worked on you at the hospital, they'd know about your birthmark. It's gotta be that."

"Rhonda," Susan's voice was muffled by her hands, "Have you noticed that your 'logical explanations' are rapidly becoming as far-fetched as...what I was saying?"

"Susan." Sternly. "There. Is. No. Way. There are no such things as 'superheroes,' there's no such thing as 'dreamspace,' and no devils! Besides. You'd never in a zillion years just, just jump onna guy like that, rip his clothes off, an,' an,' er, uh, have your uh way with 'im, I mean." Then she grinned, still holding up the magazine, its pages unfolded. "But if it is you, you sure are an enthusiastic little thing! Where inna world did you learn to do all that?"

"Give me that!"

….

The next day was a school day, and Susan was trying to come up with the best way to avoid terminal embarrassment at school. Fortunately, Rhonda was a tower of strength there. "Now, C'mon, Suze," she said, standing outside Susan's door. "You know you can't hide in your room the rest of your life. Well, I mean, you could, but where's the fun in that? And besides, that, that girl didn't even really look like you. I mean, not really."

"Oh? How was she different?" Susan's voice was muffled from the other side of the door. And probably from the other side of a thick pillow, Rhonda thought.

"Well, I mean, she was, uh, her, uhm, she didn't have any, erm, I mean, she had bigger—*" Rhonda scratched the back of her head. "Could we back up and start that over again?"

"Tell them I'm sick!"

"What if they check the doctor's reports?"

"Tell them I'm dead!"

"What if they check the coroner's reports? C'mon, Suze. Help a sister out here, 'kay?"

Soon, both Susan and Rhonda were at their school. Susan kept trying to hide behind every available obstacle, like a Colonial Marine trying to dodge an alien xenomorph. She was absolutely certain that, any second now, the cry would go up, and Her Life Would Be Over.

So she nearly jumped when Ashley hailed her. "Hey, Susan, Rhonda! Did you two give any more thought to—* What's wrong with her?" Susan had begun to shake a little, hiding behind her hands, certain that any second now…

But Rhonda was running defense. "She, uh, saw a spider. Can't stand the things. C'mon, Suze." She turned and spoke over her shoulder. "Maybe you two better not count on us, you know. Spiders, an' all."

"Oh, uh, sure!"

"C'mon, Suze, buck up here. They didn't say anything, now did they? So maybe not that many people saw it."

"You forget," said Susan in a shaky voice, "My bigmouth brother subscribes to that same mag. So you know he's seen it."

"And obviously didn't make any connection. Now if he didn't, knowing you as well as he does, why would anyone else?"

Susan suddenly straightened up. "Say, you know, that's right. If anybody woulda recognized me, he would have. Even if he just noticed a strong physical resemblance...I mean, he wouldn't tease me about it, not with what happened to me, but...he'd act different. He'd say something. I mean…"

"Well, look: here's an idea. Maybe what you got was, like, a limited edition or something. A special edition. One not everybody got. And you got one by accident."

Susan snapped her fingers. "I'll bet that's it. Well, there's one way to find out. Here," she moved off, thumbing for a ride, "I gotta do something. I'll give you a call tomorrow, 'kay? They're all gonna be out tomorrow night, an' he hasta work late, so meet me at the house at seven. We're goin' on a commando raid."

"A what now?"

…

Tuesday, 19:00 hours: Rhonda had met with Susan at her house. Susan met her at the door, attired in a black, all-over outfit, with a black hood that covered everything except her eyes. "Suze-ZUN! What the HECK?!"

Susan pulled her inside. "Come on in. I got a suit for you."

"And we're doing this exactly because?"

"Hey, we're going on a commando raid. It only follows we should dress like ninjas." She handed her the suit and pushed her into the downstairs bathroom. "Here. Get dressed."

"Uh, Susan? Commandos go on commando raids; ninjas go on ninja raids."

"Commandos, ninjas, what's the diff? Just get dressed. We don't have all night."

Rhonda shrugged into the one-piece, zippered, outfit (all the time wondering where Susan had gotten it, and half afraid to find out), and followed her out into the darkened backyard. "And just exactly what are we doing out here?"

"Here. Help me move this." And she went over to the kids' bouncy castle, and, with Rhonda's help, moved it right up under the second-story window of her brother's room.

Rhonda was becoming more suspicious by the moment. "Uh, Suze?"

But now, Susan, having satisfied herself that it was placed exactly where it needed to be, led her back up under the back staircase, creeping along in a kind of histrionic crouch. "Susan? There's nobody else here. Why are we skulking along like this? For that matter, why are we whispering?"

"Sh. Have some respect for tradition. Now come on." Rhonda followed her up to her brother Jonathon's room. Susan produced an old-fashioned hairpin and stuck into the lock. "Susan! What're you DO-ing?"

"It's called 'breaking and entering.' Oh, c'mon. Been doing it since I was five. He's changed the locks; I always learn how to pick 'em." Sure enough, with a seemingly-loud (to Rhonda) click!-the lock popped open.

Inside: "Now will you tell me what we're doing in here? And what if he comes back while we're still here?"

"That's why we moved the bouncy castle out there. We may haveta jump."

"Oh, no! You may haveta jump, Rapunzel. Me, I'm surrendering with both hands up!"

"Here. Help me with this." Susan had gone over to a metal locker in the corner of the room. She placed a small urban backpack she'd been wearing down beside it. "Now here. I'm gonna pop the lock, and you ease it open, okay? Slooowwlllly. You'll see why."

Rhonda obediently eased the filing cabinet out, while Susan reached up under the upper lid. She grabbed something Rhonda couldn't see. "Okay, I got it. Now ease it out."

"What have you got?"

"His booby trap."

"He's booby trapped this thing?"

"Oh, don't worry. It's nothing bad." The cabinet came out a few more inches, to reveal Susan holding what appeared to be a plastic clown's head atop a stout spring. It had been loaded into the cabinet in such a way as to spring out at whoever unwittingly opened the filing cabinet. "Say hello to Bobo the Clown."

"That's his booby-trap?"

"If you don't know about it, and jus' pull the cabinet out, it springs out at you and makes an 'aooga' sound. Startling as all heck. Now. This is where you come in. While I hold Bobo, you reach in there and look under the 'G's'. Find Gold Lantern 352."

"Uh, Suze? Isn't that the one that started all this? You've got a copy."

"Just do it! He could come home any second! And then I need you to do one other thing. My hands are full of Bobo."

Holding a small flashlight in her teeth, Rhonda found the indicated comic, and slid it out. At Susan's direction, she placed the pilfered comic into the backpack. "Now, there's a replacement copy in the 'pack. Get it out, and put it in place of the other one, here." Rhonda complied...just as they both heard the downstairs door click open. "Shit, he's home early. C'mon! We gotta vamoose!" Rhonda was stunned for about a half-second; she didn't even know her friend knew the word "shit." Oh, well, it was a night for surprises.

The bouncy castle down below proved to be useful, after all.

To be continued…