A Rage for Revenge

54 Paradise Lost

The bright sunlight glaring in my eyes woke me up.

I was lying on a rumpled blanket on the floor of the van. I was alone. The sunlight slanted in sideways through the front window. I sat up. I was naked. My skin had an oily feel to it, and I felt a peculiar light-headedness. I wasn't dizzy, but I felt like I was floating two inches in the air, drifting rather than sitting.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around for-what was his name?-he was gone. He hadn't even kissed me goodbye. What the . . . ?

I remembered some of it.

The gumdrop. The nest. The glowing blue fur on the walls. The worms. The (names). The (song). The-that part, I couldn't quite identify.

And then somebody had come and lifted me up and walked me out of the nest. I remembered it. We had gone to Emerald City. And then we had flown back to the van. That was the clearest part of all. And then we had made love.

I really was crazy.

My hallucinations were more real than reality.

I got out of the van and padded around naked, examining the ground. The only footprints were mine. The only tire tracks were mine.

No.

This was stupid.

He was real. Hallucinations don't get that intense. We'd made love. I remembered the feel of him and the smell of him too vividly.

What was going on inside my head? Was it actually possible to have delusions that realistic?

This was-very confusing.

Shit.

I gathered up what few of my clothes I could find and tossed them in the back of the van. I pulled on a jumpsuit and slippers and wondered what I should do.

"I could still kill myself," I suggested.

"Nah," I replied. "That doesn't sound like anywhere near as much fun as it did yesterday."

"Hmm. . . . " I said.

This was interesting. I didn't feel quite so crazy any more. I was having terrific hallucinations, but at least I didn't feel crazy. Actually, I felt-sort of like me again. Not so bad, really.

I could remember Family. I could remember everything, but it was all on the other side of a wall and I couldn't feel the hurt. I could see it clearly. I just couldn't feel it any more.

What I felt instead was . . . sore.

I rubbed my neck tenderly. I ached all over. Were these bruises on my body from the acts of passion? Or was it just from falling down the hill? It didn't matter. The weird thing, the thing that was so down-deep disturbing, was that despite the soreness, I actually felt good. Like you always do after good sex with someone you love.

Even if it's only a hallucination. I started laughing.

Whatever that pink stuff was, it stayed with you for a long time. I'd probably be grinning all the way to Colorado. Maybe I should take some with.

No.

That was the wrongness. The temptation.

It would be too easy to hide out in the world of hallucinations. And as beautiful as they had been, it would be a dangerous mistake. It would only be the illusion of escape.

I climbed into the front of the van and clicked on all the systems. All the boards showed green. Good. I hadn't done anything too stupid last night. I punched for coffee-well, it sort of tasted like coffee-and a ration bar and waited while both heated up.

Eventually, I felt well enough to ease the van back onto the road and put it on autopilot.

I hardly watched where we were going.

My mind was still trying to figure out the impossible.

Out of curiosity, I switched on the autolog and scanned the record. The motion sensors had triggered recordings only twice during the night. The first recording showed me prancing around naked on the hill, alone.

At least I looked like I was having fun.

The second recording showed me staggering back alone. I looked like a zombie, jerking and twitching as if somebody else were pulling my strings.

Well, that settled that.

Either the pink was an incredible hallucinogen-or I was as crazy as a loon.

Probably both.

Whatever. It made me too crazy to die. I had to keep going.