Terry Neale - Jo-el

I turned and began moving toward the lights of the city. Flying. Mentally it was unreal, completely in contrast to anything I’d understood since childhood. I kept thinking I’d suddenly fall to the ground at any second. I didn’t know what to do with my arms. Outstretched in front, pawing the air, like a breast-stroke swimmer or by my sides, which felt very odd. I preferred the hands out front, otherwise my head would be the first contact with an object. I liked the idea that my arms or hands would protect me, which was sort of silly. Physically it was incredible. The rush of air alongside the body was not unlike being on a motorcycle but without the contact with the road it increased the sensation of freedom. I banked from side to side and up and down, then turned over on my back, which through me for a loop. I lost the ability to know where I was, spatial disorientation I think it’s called. I flipped back onto my front and quickly recovered. The good news was I didn’t have any sensation of giddiness and the recovery was immediate. The lights of the city had long disappeared so I turned around and sought their comfort. Now I was flying slower studying the ground. The streets were empty; I couldn’t see a single car moving. I asked Sally if anyone was awake and outside? The answer was typical. There were two guys breaking into a garage in the east part of the town. It seems that my new role in life shone the light on the evil side of humanity.

“ Okay, let’s take a look.” I said to her, by thought.

“ Go left,” she said. “ More left, dead ahead about half a mile.” I followed her instructions and passed over the main road going north through town. “ Slow down, now below.”

I could see several buildings circling a cul-de-sac. We were on the edge of town, the street lights ended and there was just darkness ahead. A few cars were parked in the cul-de-sac in the back area of the building to the right of me. I couldn’t see any people. I was hovering vertically over the scene.

Sally again. “ They are out of view inside the garage .” Then my heads-up display came alive showing two guys searching a garage. I couldn’t see their faces. The display pinpointed where they were and the surrounding area. I flew down slowly and picked a spot to land behind a sidewall that blocked any view to the four garages that fronted homes backing onto the slope at the edge of town. I imagined for one second what someone would think if they’d seen me landing and shuddered.

On the ground now, a little frightened. I was unarmed, well except for Sally who always had my back. “ I’m going with the belief that you can handle these guys, Sally.”

“No problem, Jo-el,” was the reply, my heart calmed down a beat or two.

I walked to the end of the sidewall and turned to the right where I had a clear view of the garages. A small white, Toyota truck was backed up to the third one along, the garage door wide open. The two guys were wrestling a large item in a box toward the back of the truck. One was aboriginal, his dark skin glistening in the street lights, the other guy was white with a cowboy hat shielding his face.

“ Are they stealing Sally?”

“Yes, it’s a TV.”

I walked slowly toward the truck, they still hadn’t seen me. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I thought of something to say but it sounded ridiculous, I mean, “hey guys, what’d ya up to?” just wasn’t going to cut it. If I started out by accusing them they could just deny it and then what. Call the cops, that might be a little tricky for me. They were loading the box onto the bed of the truck, then the white guy saw me, I stood still, trying to stop my knees from buckling. I might have super-Sally on my side but I was shaking.

“Who the fuck are you?” he screamed, his face now visible in the street light. His aboriginal friend stopped still and glared at me. The accent was hard core Australian and for some reason I was expecting a ‘g’day mate’ but I guess the circumstances didn’t warrant it. Maybe I should go with a friendly reply.

“And a g’day to you.” I said, smiling, my accent American, that should confuse them.

There was silence for a moment neither of us sure what to do next. I was cognizant that time was not on my side, or theirs I guess. I realized I could go two ways, accuse them of theft and spark a brawl or whatever or try and play the friendly neighbor back from the night-shift. I had no idea if anybody did a nightshift in Alice Springs. But I didn’t confront these guys to back off, did I?

“You stealing that TV?” I said, the direct approach, to the point, I hope they appreciated that.

The aboriginal guy nudged passed the white guy. He was now standing at the back of the truck; I was at the front. He pulled a knife from his back pocket and held it out away from himself. His mouth broke into a wide grin revealing broken teeth, stained yellow and brown.

My sphincter muscle went on to full alert. I tried to keep my voice calm but I don’t think it worked too well.

“If you put the TV back and leave peacefully I won’t report the theft.” I replied with little enthusiasm.

“You see dis!” the aboriginal guy said indicating the knife.

I did, but I didn’t tell him. “ Sally!”

“Do you want me to knock them around a bit?” she replied.

Oh, goody, the Sally card. My heart lifted.

“ When he comes for me.” I was cutting it fine but maybe they would take up my offer. Yeah, right!

He lurched forward, I guess that’s a no, then. The knife was high in his right hand; I think he planned to slice my head off. Instinctively I ducked to the right, away from the blow. No need. It was as if his right arm hit a wall, it just stopped as he swung it down, the knife flipping out of his hand. He stood back up grabbing at his right arm with his left hand, maybe it was broken, confusion emblazoned across his round face, when he suddenly buckled at the waist, his hands instinctively clutching at his crutch, and fell backwards.

The white guy had watched all of this and was frozen still to his spot. His eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates as he tried vainly to understand what had happened. I think he peed himself, I could see a dark patch around the front of his pants. There was no effort to help his friend, he kept looking at me and wondering how I’d disabled the aboriginal guy. Without a word he took off running across the parking lot.

The aboriginal guy was on the ground, seemingly in a great deal of pain, I walked toward him. He coward away, his face contorted with fear and pain.

“Money,” I said, gesturing with my fingers.

With no hesitation he reached into his front pocket with his left hand and brought out a wallet, which he held up toward me. There was about fifty Australian dollars inside, which I pocketed and then threw the wallet back at him. I walked back to the front of the truck and opened the front door. Reaching in I removed the keys. I decided that it was time to leave, but didn’t want him to see me fly away. The trauma of that visual may scare him for life, I’m all heart. I walked back the way I’d come, around the sidewall and when I was sure the darkness would conceal me I took to flight and the black sky above. I went east, just a little and dropped the keys. Then I turned to see how the aboriginal guy was doing. He had managed to clamber to his feet and was working his way to the front of the truck. He wasn’t going to be a happy camper. In the distance I could see headlights heading toward the location. I couldn’t hear a siren.

“ Who’s that?” I asked Sally.

“ Police, I called them, when you were leaving.”