I am in the middle of the Mandelovian desert.
A strange place, the only desert in Europe. Geologist have, since the birth of the discipline, wondered what are the causes of this strange environment, encased among the luxuriant vegetation of the mountains that border the little country.
The explanations are many, but the only one I know doesn’t involve natural causes. You see, I have been always a fan of esoteric theories. Egypt, Maya, Atlantis, UFO, Bermuda triangle. I have a whole library on those subjects. I even began to use drugs to reply ancient shaman practices to contact the afterworld. Well, there is a legend that says that this desert was caused by an atomic explosion… five hundred years ago.
Random toughs. I am chained to a rock in these desert.
Waiting to something to happen.
An hour ago, on an old Toyota Land Cruiser, Lorena Burgos, the Lioness, brought me here. Lorena was very sad but compost, she told me that Agent 57, his lover, died in the Nevada mission.
She chained me to this rock, because soon my body will need heroin. Without the drugs, the metagene will finally fully manifest itself. They say it will be like an explosion, and then I will be gifted with uncanny powers.
Pain.
The abstinence crisis is about to kick in.
I’m sweating, under this enormous sun.
It’s like in Atlanta, that time. The 200m final, on the starting line. The one sweating was not me, but Frederico. I was cold like ice. How he was hating me. Eduardo Frederico, the Cuban from Miami. He ran for the USA. And everytime he was second. After me. I wonder where he is, now.
Arghhh.
The pain is unbearable. The sun is growing, larger, hotter.
I can sustain it.
My body seems to inflate, to become larger and larger…
…I am about to explode. Oh fuck what I have done it’s absurd being here I really I don’t know all those fucking mad mandelovian what is gonnahappening tomeImust be crazytobehangingfromthispieceoffuckingrockohGodohGodohGod…….
.
.
.
.
.
The sun.
Is shining over me.
I’m alive?
I’m lying on my back. On burning sand.
I’m naked, but there is my red runner vest near me.
Well, let’s see if I am still in one piece…
Oh God what’s happening? I’m sinking in the sand!
I try to grab my dress, I don’t know why, it’s the only thing that is not sand around me… and my hand passes right trough it!
Merda! I have died and now I am a ghost! The ghost of Eurostar! What a scoop for the paparazzi that years ago were always following me.
But just as I think those things, I return tangible and can grab my dress. Now I can stay firmly over the ground, without sinking like before.
It’s like I can control my density. Does that means… maybe…
… right! I become light, and jump in the air. The breeze catch me up, and soaring like an hawk, I can rise up in the sky.
I’m flying! Riding on the wind, like a bird.
If I am not dead, that man, Quantos, was right, I am much more powerful that before. I can control my density. I can turn intangible, and… what if…
I go closer to the rock were I was chained… I concentrate myself… and punch with all my force the monolith.
The piece of granite breaks in a thousands of fragment… yes, I can even augment my density… I can vary from the consistence of a gas to the hardness of diamond. What I can say, other than “Cool!”
Time to find Lorena. I soar, up in the sky. There, in the distance, I see the Toyota. I vay my density, turning gradually more dense, descending to the ground.
And then, I’m shocked. Lorena, inside the car, is dead! Killet with a bullet right across her head.
Sirens. From everywhere, cars of the Mandelovian police, and all black Mercedes, come right at me. “Cicciotto, you are under arrest for the killing of Lorena Burgos” a loudspeaker shouts at me.
I am surrounded. For one of the black Mercedes, comes out a tall man on his sixties, bearded, and with an hook in place of his right hand. He points at me his hook, and all the policemen aim at me their rifles.
And I do the only things I can. I turn intangible, and sink in the ground.
I don’t know what they are thinking, now. I see only darkness, but slowly I am trying to go away, swimming in the sand, a meter under the surface.
When I comes out from the ground, it’s late afternoon, the sun is setting. I’m exhausted, I must sleep, if only for a moment.
When I awake, it’s not yet night, the sky is deep blue and only the first stars has begun to shine.
And there is someone watching me, sitting on the sand.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Danny. Danny Hearn”
