Action Hero (2)

I either saw or understood what would happen to her. She would enevitably be loaded into a flitter and taken to a security compound on the west side of town. The flitter she would be traveling in looked alot like the choppers in the Schwartzenager (sp?) cloning movie, “6th day” whatever – definitely a variable wing aircraft, with more of a fixed wing profile. Anyway…

I knew where she was going, and I knew I was going to continue to try to rescue her. Where else could I go, what else could I do, now that I was on the lamb?

At this point, its fuzzy how I made it the six or seven miles across town, or how I did it so quickly. But I do remember walking intently westward along the north side of 21st just west of the freeway, about 100 yards from 21st street. Today, this street is a really idiotic blend of consumer and B2B commercial, packed in tighter than they should be along one of the 2nd busiest streets in town. In the dream, however, the area was more like it was 5 or more years ago: large open space punctuated by trees and a few outbuildings. Parking lots and paved areas devoid of vehicles make walking easier. In the distance, I can hear the captive woman’s flitter approaching, still a minute or two away. In front of me, an older teenage boy and his dog are hunting geese with a futuristic shotgun.

He has his back to me. Just ahead of them is the fenced and (along 21st) walled security compound. It sits on the corner of 21st and Wanamaker, and runs for about 1/4 to 1/2 mile along each side. Its a grassy compound of ponds and landscaping, with the security buildings deep in the heart of the acreage.

The boy is watching the short gap of field between him and the fence where some brush has grown up around a drainage puddle.

As I approach, a single duck takes flight towards him, possibly restless from the approaching chopper noise. The boy takes aim and tracks with the bird, pivoting over his shoulder to follow the bird. I can’t see what is in his sights, but I see him startle, possibly at finding someone so close and “downrange” of his target. He fumbles slightly as instinct and suprise mingle in his brain and he fires. I realize from the “clank” in his report that he just hit the flitter, which roars into view over my shoulder, and crashes suddenly between us in a flurry of feathers from the many other ducks that took flight when he fired.

The jump door opens, and the woman runs free, protecting her head and cowering under the collapsing rotors, while injured officers grapple with jinked safety harnasses. The explosion is small, within the cockpit and cabin, as if the engine blew a cylinder through the aft bulkhead. Black smoke billows briefly from inside as the flitter shudders one last time and comes to rest in final silence.

The four of us, including the dog, all share a look of confusion, then amazement.

(more…)