Chapter 2

Jim

I blazed through a tunnel of light, and time seemed to stand still. Everything froze as scenes from my childhood appeared and faded. I saw my parents who died in a plane crash when I was only three. I remembered their outfits from the last day I saw them. Mom wore a pink dress with flowers and a white coat with a long crochet scarf. Dad wore his gray slacks and button-down shirt, forever smiling in my mind.

It was a surreal projection. My life with Grams and my high school graduation flashed before my eyes, swirling around me as if I was stuck in the eye of a hurricane. More visions from my life appeared--meeting Mindy in college, myself on bended knee proposing, Sam arriving only two years after our wedding. Am I dreaming or dying? Last thing I remember, I was in bed drinking champagne with Mindy. I must still be asleep.

Reality hit me in the ass as I landed on a jelly-like substance smelling a lot like dog doo. Ugh, not my idea of the perfect Thursday morning. I had a serious schedule today. I slid across the slick, yellow surface, trying to stand, but the jelly rocked below me, sending me on a long slide into a pool of watery sludge. The little existing light vanished, and I was in total darkness. Something rumbled all around me and I panicked when the wall I touched contracted. The sound and stench of a burp, up close and personal, electrified my nose hair. The jelly was endless and crept up my legs. I must be in someone’s stomach--correction, something--because it was large enough to make me look like a fish-stick.

Mindy and I led interesting lives. The element of surprise was one of the reasons I married her. Something unexpected was always happening and she usually reacted in a funny, Mindy-ish way. Waking up in a stomach was new, however, and I wasn’t particularly interested in a Jonah reenactment. He spent three days there and needed an act of God to escape.

I kicked, punched, and attempted to give whatever the hell this was a major bellyache. It worked, because the next thing I knew, my whole tummy-verse shook. I flew to and fro. The organ closed in squashing my body. For one very scary moment, I feared becoming Pancake Boy. The creature’s throat convulsed and I was unceremoniously spat out, landing on my can. I swiped my face as best I could, which wasn’t great, but at least I got enough of the gunk off so I could see, and then wished I hadn’t. Something the color of snot and the size of a sperm whale knelt with its arms clutched around its belly, disgorging the rest of whatever it had eaten before having a Jim snack.

While the monster heaved, I scrambled behind some nearby rocks. The place was illuminated, but not by the sun. Bioluminescent, flowering plants--like Spanish moss if it were made up of a zillion fireflies--lit the area. Was this a Technicolor dream? Maybe a Romero version of The Wizard of Oz? I enjoyed the scenery, though I was half scared out of my mind. The plants and flowers grew in every single hue imaginable. Cherry-red blossoms, the size of my head, bobbed and swayed in the wind. A vine with pink and orange rosebuds trailed up the giant, lush trees. The ground was a patchwork carpet of different kinds of grass, creating a virtual chess-board across eternity. Like time-lapse photography, wild flowers, most I couldn’t identify, bloomed before me as if I was in one of Sammy’s cartoons. Unfortunately, my only C in college had been in botany.

I stood at the edge of a forest, contemplating my options. To pass the carnivorous, mustard-colored version of the Jolly Green Giant meant going deeper into the wooded area. Behind me, there was a cultivated field. Holy Sweet Civilization, Batman! Farmland didn’t offer much in the way of cover however, so I knew which way I was going.

The slick sludge covering my body made it hard to get a grip on the rocky surface of the boulder I had half climbed. I probably looked like Daffy Duck, as I tried to make a run for it. Clad only in my boxer briefs and bereft of shoes, I darted off toward the right of Bob the Blob and into the tree line. I didn’t want any part of Bob and I didn’t enjoy being out in the open for easy pickings either. Bob was huge and scary, but slow and cumbersome for his size. He roared behind me. Upping the speed, I darted in and out of the trees, trying to catch a glance of anything that would serve as cover.

Mindy was the special-agent-detective, whatever! This wasn’t my forte, and I only had half a clue what I was doing because of the time I spent in ROTC in college. I was a history professor that specialized in Medieval Europe, and wasn’t trained to deal with this Other Realm crap.

She hadn’t shared much, because most everything was confidential. As a spouse, I was sworn to secrecy and infinite understanding. I didn’t want to know the details, because I didn’t care to be mind-wiped.

I stopped at a bog. The mushy, water-logged tundra squished beneath my feet. I inspected the green moss, leery of a tar pit or quicksand. When safety registered, I turned to see how Bob was progressing. The nightmarish, lumbering beast was thrashing trees like long reeds. He was coming at me hard, but I was a four-day-a-week, three-mile runner, and I had a lot of wind still left in my sails. I saw a fortress in the distance. It looked like a fourteenth century, French castle with fancy, arranged turrets complete with moat. It was worth a try.

I concentrated on picking a line with my eyes and focused on my feet landing there. It was probably three miles from where I stood and a little to the right of the tree line’s safety. I would have to get out in the open, so I tried to amp up my speed. About a quarter mile out, I scanned the fortress looking for an entry, but the drawbridge was up. The moat was a solid drop of about thirty feet, filled with gray bubbling water. I ran while muttering, “Down, down, down, damn it!” Skidding to a halt at the edge of the drop, I yelled in frustration, “What the hell!”

To my amazement, the drawbridge descended until, finally, I was able to cross. Fatigued, I stumbled and nearly fell headlong into the bubbling liquid below. My hackles rose when I looked back and saw Bob the Blob foaming at the mouth. “Up! Up,” I cried out.

I was a hair’s breadth from panicking when I saw the drawbridge rise, trapping me in the center courtyard. It was straight out of a fairytale.

The giant leapt for the bridge, clawing its wooden planks as the door ascended. Bob wailed as his fingers mashed between wood and stones. The next sound I heard was a gurgling splash. I sighed with relief, slowly taking in my surroundings. Blue, white, red, and gold stars, larger than I had ever seen decorated the sky like gems tossed on black velvet. Double moons gave off enough light to see. It must still be night. Giant plum-colored roses wound their way up the trellis and onto the brick, with lush, green ivy growing in between. My eyes found the center tower above the drawbridge where a woman stared down at me with vague curiosity.

“Who art thou?” she called down, visible from the chin up.

“I’m Jim, Jim Nichols.” My voice sounded a little high-pitched, so I cleared my throat and repeated in a firmer tone. “Dr. Jim Nichols, Tulane University.” I stood, holding my shoulders back, trying to look professional. I ignored my bare chest and dingy boxers that boasted “Skid Marks,” with a picture of two bears skiing down my rump.

“A doctor you say?” She leaned out the stone window, interest lilting her voice. Her hair cascaded in solid waves of golden silk. Jewels sparkled in her tresses and a large emerald hung around her neck, gracing her ample bosom. The amulet winked at me, giving off an extraordinary light. She was, forgive me for thinking it, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.