Holograms in the Snow
Dawn breaks on a coastal city. Foghorns sound off from seafare. Sharks glide beneath. Rays of sunlight fight through the mist, onto the cityscape.
An airship hovers over the city, above the clouds. Subdued light reflects off it.
Across the peninsula and behind a shop, Jennifer paints a canvas on a rickety easel. Completed and discarded paintings stack up around the yard, weathering.
“Breakfast?”
“Oh, no thanks.”
“Wow look at the city.”
Beyond the shoreline, the sunrise illuminates high-rises, and an airship.
“I bet Alex is there now.”
Jennifer says nothing.
“Lockdowns, empty shelves, I can barely get parts.”
Jennifer says nothing.
“Okay, be right back.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Jennifer examines his painting. He grimaces and kicks the easel, collapsing it into the dirt.
“Voilà.”
He stands the easel back up, replaces the dirty painting, stares at it again, and kicks the leg out, again. In the distance the airship casts a shadow onto the clouds.
His father returns with breakfast, sits in the office, and eats quietly. A siren cries in the distance. Waterfowl chatter.
“Can you make a pickup from Daisy?”
“Sure.”
Jennifer leaves, passing a food truck congregation.
He crosses the town square, the café, the newsstand, and hops onto a streetcar. A fishmonger sprays the sidewalk. Police cruisers loiter on red curbs.
Across town he jumps off, skipping up the curb on a block of commercial buildings, turning, startled, as someone grabs him.
Jennifer backs up, jerking free from the menacing figure’s grasp, quickly backing into someone else. He turns to see who, but she passes him, towards the brute, pulls out pistols, and fires twice. The shots, suppressed, sound like knocks on wood. The fool drops. A squad car crosses the intersection nearby.
“I’m Alex. Come with me.”
Alex weaves her arm around Jennifer’s and they walk away calmly, stepping over blood snaking down the dewy concrete from the corpse’s head.
“What the hell is…”
“I’ll explain,” Alex pulls him close and keeps walking. A tinted SUV approaches. She tenses.
The vehicle veers at them. Alex throws her bodyweight into Jennifer getting them both almost out of the way. Their momentum absorbs the impact and they land on their feet.
The doors open and gunmen, like demons, emerge opening fire. Alex and Jennifer run, ducking into a diner, a bell chimes as they slam into the doorframe, pivoting. Bullets pierce the windowpanes. Glass dust explodes and rains down.
Alex kicks the back door open and they sprint down the alley. The shooters flee the scene.
“Just go about your business, Jennifer. You’ll be fine. They won’t be back anytime soon.”
Jennifer, breathing heavily, doesn’t respond.
“I jammed the cameras in the area. You’ll be fine. Just go about your business,” Alex looks over her shoulder, back to Jennifer, smiles and runs off.
Jennifer stands there, in heart-racing timelessness, before the impetus to survive penetrates the adrenal high. He walks off quickly, hearing sirens.
Daisy meets Jennifer behind the machinist’s shop, on the loading dock.
“Oh my god are you alright I heard there was just a shooting are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I wasn’t even near where it happened.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Ya,” Jennifer lies again, trying not to shake, “is there an order ready?”
“I don’t know why you hide out at Dad’s all day take the ferry to the city. Go out. Meet someone. You’re never going to be happy hiding out for the rest of your life. I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? People really try hard to like you Jennifer.”
“I know.”
“Come into the city with us tonight you know see and be seen you never know who you might meet.”
“Maybe.”
Daisy groans, “You’re so frustrating I already know you’re going to flake you gotta live your life quit making all these excuses.”
“Daisy,” Jennifer begins, but is interrupted by one of their coworkers.
“Daisy. Phone.”
They nod.
“Part’s on the front desk take care of yourself.”
“Take care of myself?”
“Don’t you watch the news? Alex? Capri? It’s dangerous out there.”
“Capri?”
Daisy rolls their eyes, “Take care Jennifer.”
Jennifer finds the paper-wrapped twine-tied part and tucks it under his arm. The front door chimes as he leaves.
On his way back, police in marked and unmarked vehicles comb the streets. Jennifer pulls his coat in tight and tries to have inconspicuous thoughts.
He cuts down a side street, sensing someone is following him. He turns to see who. Alex? A blade whistles through the air. His vision cuts out. He collapses, unconscious.
Jennifer comes to, shivering wet, the asphalt rough against him, blind.
He reaches up to wipe his eyes, but there’s nothing there.
Jennifer squirms in fear and begins thrashing, like drowning. Maybe he is drowning. A sleep paralysis nightmare? His mind races.
“Maybe I’m dead and just don’t know it yet.”
He forces his eyes open and blinks furiously, slowly improving his clouded vision. Finally one eye clears, then the other. It’s nighttime.
He sees his body, near, but impossibly far away, all there, but headless.
“I must be dreaming.”
Everything is pins and needles, but more like daggers. His neck burns intensely.
He wills his body up and watches himself stand. He’s never seen himself from this angle. He kneels and picks up his head. The package is still there, he picks that up too, and goes on his way, limping savagely.
The next morning Jennifer wakes up at home, in bed, still in anguish, “Please be a dream. Please be a dream. Please…,” he repeats as he gets up, but only his body moves. He cries, “Nooo!”
There’s a knock on the door, “You up?”
“Uh, ya but I don’t feel so good.”
“You okay?”
“I need to find Alex,” Jennifer thinks, but says, “I’ll be fine, I’m probably not coming in today.”
“Sure you’re okay?”
“Ya.”
“Okay, call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Jennifer says, realizing he’s still very tired. He climbs his body back into bed and passes out.
Jennifer wakes up again, late afternoon, dazed, to a knock on the door, “Jennifer?”
“Hey, Dad, I’m sorry, I’m… hungover. I think I’m starting to feel better though. I… won’t let it happen again.”
After a significant pause his father says, “Daisy and I are going to dinner and a movie.”
“Sorry Dad.”
“…It’s fine.”
Jennifer wakes up again, after midnight. “I’ve got to find her.” He covers his bloody sheets, takes his head, and leaves.
At the shore behind the shop, he fills the tank of a somewhat communal aluminum fishing boat. The motor starts with one pull and he shoves off.
Large freighters crisscross the dazzling city lights reflecting off the jet black choppy water. Jennifer manages navigating through, despite a few close calls.
He arrives in the city. Tall skyscrapers bathed in light pollution tower overhead, a sort of reverse vertigo. The cloud coverage hangs above the high-rises, through which the airship's position lights blink. He ties up the craft beneath a pier filled with sleeping refugees from various diasporas.
“I would tell you not to worry about your boat, that it will be safe here, but it’s not true. Your boat will be gone by morning; however, I sense you may not be concerned about it. Hi, how are you?”
“I’m…” Jennifer hesitates, struggling to casually balance his head, on his neck, in a natural position. The silhouette speaking to him steps out from the shadows.
“My name is Spree,” they say.
“Jennifer.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Spree says, looking down, whittling a pole, reminiscent of a short broomstick.
“Spree. Do you know anyone that can help me… find Alex?”
“Alex? They say she’s only found when she wants to be found. Authorities have been trying to bring down the Greysong for years, but with no luck.”
“The Greysong?”
Spree points to the sky.
“How do I get… there?”
“Here,” Spree blows wood shavings from the pole and hands it to Jennifer.
“What’s this?”
“Please, allow me.”
Spree takes the pole and guides it halfway down Jennifer’s neck. He shudders.
“There. Try sticking your head on that.”
He does.
“This should help draw less undesired attention,” Spree takes their scarf and wraps it around Jennifer’s neck, “There.”
“How did you know?”
“I watched your navigation light approaching, somehow I knew you would land here, somehow I knew to get this carving ready. The psychic boundaries are expanding for some of us. Keep going. You’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you, Spree.”
“You are very welcome, Jennifer.”
Jennifer climbs out from under the pier, up the erosion boulders. In the city, public houses and discothèques spill out onto sidewalks and into the streets. The glamorous and unglamorous compliment and contend with each other. A tapestry fills the air.
***
Hi, thank you for reading. If you are interested in the rest of the story, it is available here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BDMQ9BXR
