“This is for you…”
“For me? Really? It’s beautiful,” she said, gently stroking the glossy black lacquered body of the two-seater car. “Can I take it for a spin?”
Between the black shadow merging with the darkness of the world and her black dress, a pair of silver keys dangled. The muted glow of the moon left a luminous kiss on them.
She spun on the thin heel of her shoe and deftly hopped into the car. Gently, she unlatched the roof, revealing the dark, starless sky. Only the moon smiled faintly among the swirling clouds.
She sat so close to the ground that she could almost feel its touch. It was a very low car with a disproportionately long hood.
She adjusted the straps of her dress, brushed her hair from her forehead, and turned the keys in the ignition while pressing the clutch with her foot. The engine roared. She put it in first gear and pressed the gas. The car moved as gracefully as a dancer, merging its shiny body into the night. She increased the speed… The wind tousled her hair, rang in her ears, and gently caressed her cheeks. It was a fantastic experience. She pressed the gas pedal harder, the speedometer needle inching dangerously close to the maximum. The drive was wonderful. In the rush, the straps of her dress fell to her elbows, but she didn’t notice.
Suddenly, the distorted sounds of music reached her ears, carried by the wind.
Beethoven…
A party…
The Extraordinary…
She turned sharply, tires squealing.
After all, the car was a two-seater…
She parked under a plastic roof, next to another equally impressive machine. She glanced in the mirror, fixed her disheveled hair, and adjusted the annoying dress straps. The heels of her shoes clicked on the concrete slabs…
The Extraordinary was dancing.
While she was dreaming her dream, the Extraordinary was holding another woman close, a woman with longer, more tanned legs, gleaming golden hair, crimson lips, and perfect breasts swaying under her dress.
The girl smiled ironically to herself. He had said that none of that mattered, that his ideal woman was intelligent and well-read, someone he could have meaningful conversations with, someone who could pick out the notes of Beethoven out of music… Ha, ha, ha…
She pushed her way through the crowd, elbowing the dancing couples aside…
“Which symphony is this?”
The blonde laughed a tinkling, irritating laugh. A laugh that irritated HER ears.
She jumped between the blonde and the Extraordinary, threw her arms around his neck, and with murder in her eyes, continued the dance, leading him towards the exit.
The Extraordinary laughed. He looked through half-closed eyes at her angry, lightning-filled eyes and couldn’t stop his mischievous laughter:
“You probably know which symphony it is?”
She lowered her head and, looking challengingly at the Extraordinary, stretched her lips into a predatory smile:
“It’s time for the Eroica now…”
They stepped outside into the garden. Among the stones and rock fragments grew roses of a grayish hue. The Extraordinary picked one, but the petals immediately fell off and shriveled up, rustling. Only a bare, thorn-covered stem remained in his hand.
The Extraordinary flinched:
“It was supposed to be a rose for you.”
She leaned her head towards him and looked sadly at the stem:
“Roses are beautiful, but they wither too quickly…”
They sat side by side on the uneven ground; she with her knees pulled up to her chin, her narrow dress pulled tightly over her knees, her arms wrapped around them. The Extraordinary stretched his long legs in black trousers out in front of him and rested his hands on the pavement. Around them, uneven rose bushes and rock fragments jutted out of the ground. Every living and inanimate object was outlined by the pale moon, casting symmetrically parallel shadows. The night silence was broken by the sounds of conversations, laughter, and music spilling out through the window.
She sat lost in thought, gazing at her silent companion. Suddenly, something came to her mind.
“Extraordinary, what is most important to you?” Her question broke the silence, and her gaze met the green flashes of his eyes. He flinched, torn from his world of thoughts.
“For me…”
She closed his mouth with her hand:
“Don’t say it. I think… I don’t want to know.”
They fell silent again. It was more comfortable that way. She opened a small handbag and took out a round mirror. She looked at herself in it, then pulled out a lipstick. She touched up her lips. She put the lipstick back in the handbag, took out mascara, unscrewed it, placed the open tube on the uneven ground. She raised the brush to her eyes. Just as she was about to coat her lashes with the black substance, the mascara tube unexpectedly tipped over, and a black stain spread over the moonlit stones.
The Extraordinary knocked the mirror and brush from her hand. He jumped to his feet and pulled her along the uneven stone path. The notes of the Eroica floated out from the building where the party was taking place…
They stopped.
The Extraordinary grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her hard:
“What have you done now?”
She hung her head in shame.
“I’m sorry, Extraordinary, but it’s not my fault that this world can’t exist without you yet. You have to stay in it… with me…”
He lowered his arms in resignation and sighed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against his white shirt.
Suddenly, she remembered something… She dumped the keys out of her overfilled handbag and pulled the Extraordinary along with her.
“Don’t worry, we have a car! New, shiny, beautiful.”
They ran quickly ahead. From over the hill, the plastic roof emerged, and beneath it, two magnificent cars sparkled.
The Extraordinary stopped and halted her. He nodded in approval.
“Impressive…”
They smiled at each other and started running down the hill. They were maybe ten meters from the cars, perhaps even less, when the sky was shaken by a powerful explosion, and the plastic roof disappeared under a massive column of orange-gold fire.
The blast separated and blinded them. She was thrown a few meters away. She fell hard to the ground, clutching the small handbag instinctively. The heat wave singed her hair and shortened its length slightly, spreading a characteristic smell of burning.
She fell into a deep, empty darkness…
“Did you hit your head?” A whisper broke into her dark subconscious.
“No…” she answered, not fully conscious. She opened her eyes and met the gaze of the Extraordinary.
“You have blood on your temple.”
She got up from the ground very slowly. Something started to dance in her head. She tried to lift her hand and wipe the blood away, but her trembling hand couldn’t reach the right spot. Seeing her futile efforts, the Extraordinary wiped the streak of red from her temple with his finger, and then she realized she had dreamt this dream before…
She fully awoke and tried to stand up.
“Don’t get up yet. Wait a moment,” he stopped her. “Are you all right?”
“Almost. I lost my shoes, tore my dress, singed my hair, hit my head, and I probably don’t look too good…” she looked at him questioningly.
The Extraordinary nodded.
“Thanks. But you don’t look much better.”
“Thanks.”
Suddenly, everything came back to her. She sprang up from the ground and turned to where the cars had been.
Where now, fire crept among the charred, metal skeletons, and the nauseating smell of burnt rubber filled the air. From the small, open handbag, the silver keys fell out. She picked them up from the ground and closed them in her dirty hand. She saddened.
“That was supposed to be your car, Extraordinary…” she lowered her head and buried it in the dirty shirt of the Extraordinary. Tears slowly welled up in her eyes…
The Extraordinary patted her back consolingly:
“Cars are beautiful, but they turn into heaps of scrap too quickly.”
They got up from the ground and moved forward.
“What do we do now? I don’t quite know where we are. We should probably clean up and change clothes… Maybe we should go back to the party?”
“We have no other choice,” agreed the Extraordinary. “But if you think someone can help us, you’re mistaken. The people at the party are just decorations you created, coded in your subconscious, already experienced and outdated, finding their way out in this unfortunate phase of the dream.”
“But I have no control over it. It’s not my fault that I got us tangled in this dimension. It’s absolutely not up to me that all the surrounding details connect into these irrational consistencies. I don’t understand it.”
“Think about it. You were driving a luxury car when suddenly the empty seat next to you reminded you of me. You barged into a party that was a paraphrase of another party and found me dancing with a blonde – a standard ideal of a woman, which, as I once told you, is not my ideal. You pulled me out of the party threatening with the time of the Eroica, spilled mascara, and wanted to give me a car, which blew up before our eyes. So, where did you get that car from?”
“It was a gift.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
They entered the party and found it at the same time and place they had left it. The blonde stood confused on the dance floor, couples swayed to the music, and the air was filled with the smell of coffee, wine, and tobacco.
The Extraordinary pulled her to the back. They passed through the kitchen where women were preparing food for the party. Their dresses brushed against the stone floor, stirring the dust. Two of them stood by the sink, in which tepid water gurgled, washing dishes and large pans. Others sat at the table, chewing on chicken legs. In the air floated scents of spices, garlic, and old oil. They passed through a narrow corridor and found themselves in a back room. Dust-covered books stood on the shelves, and in the center of the room was a large, sunken armchair with small springs sticking out of its holes.
She didn’t sit in it. She stood beside it, closed her eyes, and allowed her subconscious to flood the world.
“Dream, dream, dream…” the words of the Extraordinary echoed, and everything flowed into oblivion…
She woke up in her room, and the sun shone through the window.
She rubbed her eyes and got up from the bed. She took a step, stumbled over the handbag, opened it, and the silver keys fell out.
She put on a dress, fixed her hair, and went outside.
In front of the house stood a shiny, black, two-seater car with an excessively long hood.
She smiled…
“For me?” she whispered, unlocking the door with the silver keys and slipping inside the car. The engine roared. She put it in first gear, pressed the gas, and the car, like a dancer, smoothly joined the movement.
She increased the speed, the wind tousling her hair and the rush sending shivers down her spine. She pressed the gas pedal harder…
But then she felt an unsteady touch of the ground and remembered what the Extraordinary had said…
“Cars are beautiful, but they turn into heaps of scrap too quickly…”
They got up from the ground and started walking.
“What do we do now? I don’t really know where we are. We should probably wash up and change clothes… Maybe we should go back to the party?”
“We have no other choice,” agreed the Extraordinary. “But if you think someone can help us, you’re mistaken. The people at the party are just decorations you created, coded into your subconscious, already experienced and outdated, finding their way out in this unfortunate phase of the dream.”
“But I have no control over it. It’s not my fault that we got tangled in this dimension. It’s absolutely not up to me that all the surrounding details merge into these irrational consistencies. I don’t understand it.”
“Think about it. You were driving a luxury car when suddenly the empty seat next to you reminded you of me. You barged into a party, which was a paraphrase of another party, and found me dancing with a blonde—a standard ideal of a woman, which, as I once told you, is not my ideal. You pulled me out of the party threatening with the time of the Eroica, spilled mascara, and wanted to give me a car, which blew up before our eyes. So, where did you get that car from?”
“It was a gift.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
They entered the party and found it at the same time and place they had left it. The blonde stood confused on the dance floor, couples swayed to the music, and the air was filled with the smell of coffee, wine, and tobacco.
The Extraordinary pulled the girl to the back. They passed through the kitchen where dishwashers worked intensively, and hot clouds of steam, hiding the gray figures of cooks and waiters, rose from unknown sources. They reached the bathrooms marked “staff only” and turned the key in the lock, cutting themselves off from the rest of the people in the building.
“Do you have anything useful left in your handbag?” asked the Extraordinary with a half-smile. “Lipstick, mirror, and mascara are gone, keys too. What’s left?”
She unzipped it and looked inside:
“A slightly crumpled packet of tissues, mint gum, a hair tie…” She dumped the items onto the floor in front of the bathrooms. “A tiny perfume bottle, a pen…”
“Not bad,” interrupted the Extraordinary. “But you could use shoes and, hmm…” he looked at the remains of her evening dress, “…something to wear. Preferably regular trousers.”
The Extraordinary entered the stuffy, crowded room and began looking for something practical for the girl to wear. Spotting pants seemed impossible since all the women wore evening dresses. After a long search, he finally found somewhat too long, black pants and a tight, sleeveless black blouse with a silver-threaded Chinese dragon embroidered on the chest, spewing clouds of fire from its gaping mouth. It was a good set. He approached the dragon and looked at its owner, sipping a drink at the high bar.
“Care to dance?” he asked.
The dragon leaned towards him, almost burning the Extraordinary with its fiery breath. Long, silver nails flashed in the air, pulling along slender, tanned fingers that soon rested on the Extraordinary’s shoulder. Long, dark heels slowly tapped out a rhythm on the floor, and the Extraordinary focused all his attention on them, trying to match his steps to the rhythm. Soon, the rhythm took over all his thoughts, and then the Extraordinary instinctively reached for the dragon.
The girl waited for him outside the building, sitting on a low step with her knees pulled up to her chin, covered by the torn dress. He handed her the black bundle with a smile. She shed the dress and hurriedly put on the new clothes. And then the dragon bared its silver teeth at her. Her face lit up with joy.
“Do you know, Extraordinary, what this means? With him, nothing can harm me.”
She hastily put on the pants, rolling up the legs to the right length. However, when she wore the blouse and smoothed the silver dragon, it unexpectedly left its place on her chest and simply ran away with its tail between its legs.
Men emerged from nowhere, armed with ready-to-fire guns. The Extraordinary stopped, completely surprised. The girl was the first to come up with a strange idea. She grabbed the Extraordinary’s hand and whispered in his ear:
“Run, Extraordinary, I’ll hold them off.”
The Extraordinary began to laugh:
“How can YOU hold them off?”
His loud laugh angered her. She started undressing. When she shed the last piece of clothing, the men vanished into thin air, leaving only the guns behind. She began to collect them with a laugh much sharper and more mocking than the Extraordinary’s…
The attic was large but filled with dusty, dirty junk that littered the wooden floor, tangled underfoot, and made it difficult to move freely. They sat in the darkest corner next to each other, clutching their guns tightly. The attic was full of people, bad people armed with much better and more valuable weapons. They only had two last guns and a limited number of bullets. The first opponent was taken down by the Extraordinary. The guy made a lot of noise and pulled another one along.
The hardest part was getting rid of the last one. He was silent, blending almost completely with the dark scenery.
“I’ll take care of him, Extraordinary.”
“How…”
She crawled out of the hiding place, making too much noise. She roughly knew where to look for the opponent in the attic. Soon, she saw the glint of the barrel in the darkness, reflecting the dull moonlight. The barrel shone near a small, round window.
He had her in his sights.
Without thinking too long, she just instinctively shot. The noise from under the window signaled a hit. It was a quick shot, though she didn’t yet know how good it was. She heard a whisper by her ear:
“You’re quick. Maybe not the best, but quick.”
It was the Extraordinary whispering in her ear while finishing off the opponent.
Then he leaned over him…
She was curious about what the Extraordinary was doing. She moved closer and opened her eyes wide.
For her companion had plunged his hand into the ribs of the corpse and pulled out a still-steaming bullet, shining red with blood. It was her bullet. With hands sticky from warm blood, he opened the girl’s clenched fist and slipped the bullet into it.
Then he closed her fingers back over it.
They hid in a black and cold hallway in front of a door to some storage room full of junk. The Extraordinary gripped the loaded gun. The deafening silence held them in place for long hours.
They wanted to leave. They slowly stood up and straightened their stiff legs…
And just then, a terrible noise came from the storeroom. The girl pushed the door and jumped inside, with the Extraordinary following right behind her. In a hurry, with guns ready to fire, they began to search every corner, but the storeroom was empty. They were about to leave when a pile of bags gnawed by mice and covered in dust started moving under a small, dirty window.
When the girl shot, a large, dark rat jumped out from between the bags. Before she could dodge, it bit her calf, which was exposed from the rolled-up black pants. Her bare feet instantly turned cold.
The Extraordinary shot. The animal trembled and, releasing bloody foam from its mouth in its death throes, lay still.
The girl looked at the Extraordinary through half-closed, blueish eyelids, slowly collapsing to the ground…
He ran over and caught her before she hit her head on the concrete floor. Then he laid her head on his warm knee. Her lips were purple and trembling as she spoke:
“This is the death I was looking for. But how prosaic and meaningless…”
She searched for his warm hand with her fingers and pressed her hands into his. The Extraordinary didn’t understand…
“Your hands are ice-cold.”
“Poison… rat bite… I don’t know. I’m dying, Extraordinary, ha, ha, ha. I’m dying because a rat bit me…”
The Extraordinary touched her bare, cold foot with his free hand, slid his fingers higher to her calf, and felt blood under his fingers. It was oozing from a small wound shaped like rat teeth. They had left marks, sucking all the warmth from her body. Then the Extraordinary started laughing. His laugh, initially quiet and partially suppressed, gradually turned into an irritating giggle, and then into an unstoppable, crazed laugh. He laughed with every fiber of his being, with every sense, howling with laughter. She heard this monstrous laughter through the fog of unconsciousness. It throbbed in her nerves and brain. It throbbed in her tissues and cells, radiating with unbearable pain.
By Marta ***
