A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Escape from Paris

     Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. – William Butler Yeats

We are not only observers. We are participators. In some strange sense this is a participatory universe. What we have been accustomed to call “physical reality” turns out to be largely a papier mache construction of our imagination plastered in between the solid iron pillars of our observations. These observations constitute the only reality. Until we see why the universe is built this way, we have not understood the first thing about it. We can well believe that we will first understand how simple the universe is when we recognize how strange it is. – John Wheeler

He said his name was Barry Allen. “Like the Flash?”  She had asked.   “Yep, just like the Flash, but not quite as quick,” he had replied cheerfully his accent almost exactly the same as hers.

Now, they were racing through the narrow streets of Paris in his rusty old, formerly white, Peugeot.  Marie held onto to her seat, as Barry made a hard fast turn at breakneck speed.  Now, she wasn’t as sure about his ‘not quite as quick’ claim.  She leaned down and forward to look in the side view mirror.

“Is he still back there” Barry asked.  He hadn’t time for looking in the rearview mirror.

He was.  The Man in black, in the smart matching black Porsche was losing ground.  He didn’t have the driving skill that Barry seemed to.

“Yeah, he’s still back there.”

“Fucker,” cursed her driver cheerfully.  Marie was pretty sure her companion was enjoying himself.

“So, who is he again?”

“Um, hold on, hard left here,” He turned the wheel hard.  Marie was sure that half of the wheels came off the ground for a second.  Tires squealed in protest.  Pedestrians shouted and leapt out of the way.

“His name is Wallace Patel.”

As if that really had answered her question.

“And why is he after us, I mean me, again?”

“He’s with them.”

Barry hit the gas pedal (or petrol pedal, she supposed) as the street straightened out before them.  He hit the horn to warn the jaywalkers up ahead.

“And they are…”

“It’s rather difficult to explain.  Let’s just get you to the Doc, and I’ll give you the full answer when I can devote my attention to the task, if that’s okay.  We call them Toxies.”

“Wait, what?  I don’t need a doctor.” She protested.

“You answered yes to question #6, so you need to see the Doc, before we can let you come to the Chateau.”

He grunted with another hard turn which sent even more of the citizens of Paris dashing for the safety of the sidewalk.

Barry Allen had wavy, light brown hair, what they used to call dirty blonde.  He was tall, fit, and dressed in a red sweater, blue jeans, and expensive hiking shoes.  This Marie knew because she had just invested some of her funds on a similar pair.

His first words to her where: “Hi, I’m from Chateau de Pays m des Merveiles.  My name is Barry Allen.  Plans have changed.  I’m here to take you down to the retreat.”  He then paused, and smirked slightly but tried to retain some semblance of his serious and professional tone.  “That guy outside, waiting for you … he’s bad business … so, as they say in the movies, ‘Come with me if you want to live.’  I’ve always wanted to say that.”

And for some reason, which she could not comprehend, Marie had gathered her unpacked suitcases, replaced her laptop in its place in her backpack and let the tall stranger take her away.  He advised against checking out and assured her that the Chateau would take care of everything for her.  And in a moment or two more they were in a high speed chase through the outskirts of Paris.

“But, you guys had just emailed me asking for my travel details a few seconds before you showed up at the door …”

“Yeah, someone probably doesn’t know I’m here.  Left hand, right hand and all that,” Barry said by way of explanation.  “And, as I said, things have changed, so our plans have changed.  And you need to see the doctor, ASAP.”

“I don’t need a doctor, I feel fine.”

“That’s good, but the doctor is an unavoidable necessity, I’m afraid.  You need treatment for your parasitic infection before you can enter the grounds of the Chateau.”

Marie protested, “But, I don’t have any parasitic infection.”

“You answered yes to question six on the application, right?

“Question Six?”

“The one about the cats,” Barry responded.

“You’re insane.”

“Actually, you are, you just don’t realize it. Hang on, we’re almost there.  Is that Indian bastard still back there?”

Marie looked in the mirror again.  All she could see was angry pedestrians shaking fists and shouting curses at them.  No sign of the black Porsche.

“I don’t see him,” she answered.

“Ha.  Gotcha this time, Wally.”

He made yet another sharp turn, this time down a narrow alley.  Left turn.  Right turn.  There was a gated compound up ahead.  Barry navigated the car between the gate posts and slowed in front of the house, finally stopping in front of the entrance way.

“This is it.  Let me close the gate.”

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt