Blackout

Deep opened his eyes, sweating profusely. What a dream! He didn´t remember a single thing about it, only that he had to do something. He got out of bed and stretched. He glanced at his alarm clock: 6.23. Another 27 minutes until it usually would ring, he thought. However, it was summer and he was free from school for another month. He stepped to the bathroom and washed his face. Finally awake, he looked in the mirror only to find his own reflection staring back at him:

His black hair, being almost the length of his palm, could completely cover his ears and neck and dangled in front of his eyes. Deep didn´t really care about his hair, other than the fact that his mom always wanted to cut it short. He preferred his hair long, though, and always barely managed to convince his mom to only trim it a bit, leaving it about as long as last time. He was short-sighted, so much so, that even with only the foot-and-a-half distance between his eyes and the mirror, his vision was beginning to blur. He sighed, and stepped in the shower behind the shower-curtain. He didn´t need to, his family was away at their summer-home (‘cottage’ wasn´t really the proper thing to call it, as it was larger than their ‘real’ home) but he´d decided to stay home, saying he wanted some time alone. He´d be alone for another week, before his parents would visit to check up on him.

As he felt the warm water on his body, he thought about the dream. It felt so vivid, so real, yet he remembered nothing about it. It had happened a few times before, each time being different and him only having a slight nagging in the back of his head reminding him that he needed to do something, but he had no idea what.

The first time it happened, he´d drawn an amazingly realistic picture of a boy, a feline of some sort, a fox and a dragon shaking hands. When he looked closer at the boy, he realized he´d drawn himself. This puzzled him. He tried drawing it again, but his version was a very lame excuse of a picture. It was almost as if someone else had drawn it.

That was three weeks ago, and it had happened three times after that: he´d composed a song about the boy, he´d practically rebuilt his computer, making it better than it was before and apparently stopped a mugging, he hoped, as he was 400$ richer. That would last him a month, if he used them wisely.

Now, he had the feeling again. He had to admit, that nothing bad had happened... yet. He still didn´t like the fact that every time it happened, he´d black out, losing at one point over three hours of his life.

Having showered, dried off and dressed, he headed to the kitchen to get some breakfast, as he didn´t really have anything else to do. He gave his alarm cloock another glance: 6.50.
- Heh! Ahead of schedule, he thought in a hopeless effort to cheer himself up, but he was too concerned about the dream. Opening the fridge, he found to his dismay, that the fridge was practically empty. Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, he thought he´d make a list of what he needed from the store.

- GAH! he cried out, blinded by the sudden brightness of his computer screen in his dimly lit room and lost his balance, crashing backwards on the floor. He stood up, startled and with a throbbing headache caused by his head hitting the floor. He heard a humming sound and turned on the lights. His printer was spitting out  page after page of text.
- PAGE 4 OF 17, said the small monitor on the printer.
He looked at his watch.
- Holy shit, he said quietly.
He usually avoided cursing out of principal, but forgot about that, when his watch showed the time to be well past nine in the evening. He was suddenly gripped by panic, afraid of how long he´d actually lost. He quickly checked the date on the computer: July 2nd.
- Thank God, it´s still today, he thought relieved. He then wondered why he wasn´t hungry. After all, he´d just lost almost 15 hours, and had no idea what he´d done in that time. Well, besides writing a 17-page story, that is. He headed to the kitchen, leaving the printer and computer to finish their stuff, and opened the fridge door.
-Wow, he thought as he whistled under his breath.
The fridge was full of food. Apparently, he´d bought what he needed, and eaten, too, during the blackout. This stuff would last him a month. In fact, it almost seemed almost too much for one person... Deep closed the fridge door and went back to his room, where the printer was done with the pages. He closed the writing program, saving it with the name ‘Blackout’, and was again surprised, when he saw the desktop wallpaper. It was the picture of him and the animals again! He wondered how it got there, since he didn´t own a scanner. The answer came in the form of an image-icon on the desktop. He´d drawn it himself, on the computer. He was, surprisingly enough, not surprised, so he shrugged it off, and shut down the computer, took the pages off the printer, lay down on his bed, and started reading.

The story was about a young man, who woke up one morning to find that he could turn himself at will into either a feline, naming the race ‘Timbu’, a silver-and-red fox, and a ‘Draegon’, which was basically a human-like dragon without magical abilities. The man had always wanted to protect justice ‘superhero-style’, so he used his ability to save and protect people as best he could.

He later found out, that the other forms had developed abilities: the Draegon could breathe fire  and was by far the strongest of them all. He was also highly resistant to heat and, being the only one with wings, could fly, with the maximum speed being about 125 mph. He had decided to name the form ‘Sezlik’, since he couldn´t, obviously, use his real name.

The fox had a nack for language, as he knew several languages: all European languages, every Chinese dialect, Hebrew, Russian, Japanese, Korean, Swahili, even ancient languages, like Sanskrit and Native American dialects. He could also talk to electronic equipment, be it a computer, microwave or even a doorbell, and animals. The man decided to name this form Starren.

The ‘Timbu’ could become translucent, almost invisible as long as he stayed in shadow or dim light. He didn´t need oxygen and was incredibly agile, a fast runner and an excellent jumper. As most felines do, he also had excellent balance, easily jumping and running across just about anything strong enough to hold his weight.

As Deep kept reading, he came across something concerning. He shouldn´t really have been surprised. After all, ha wrote the story, but it still had him worried to find that the young man in the story was exactly like him. They had the same age, same appearance and even the same personality. It scared him, as he was certain he wasn´t himself when he wrote the story. The most worrying thing, however, was the fact that the man also had blackouts for a time. But they stopped when he found out about his ability.

As he read that part, he suddenly had a flashback of himself seeing a mugger holding a knife to an old woman, trying to take her purse. Deep quickly moved in the shadows, somehow knowing the mugger would come to him. The old woman put up a fight, but in the end, she tripped and the mugger ripped her purse from her and took off towards Deep. The mugger was fairly tall and had a good physique, but he was practically dwarfed by Deep, stepping out from the shadows, and stopped in his tracks. He was at least 6’4”, but he was still much shorter than Deep, who seemed to be about 8 feet tall. Deep quickly punched the mugger, knocking him out, and threw him head-first in a dumpster. Deep noticed that his hands weren´t wuite normal, but green and scaly, like he was wearing dark crocodile-hide gloves. He then picked up the purse and walked to the old woman, and helped her up.
- Are you alright, ma’am? he asked.
- Oh yes. Thank you, young man. she said, as she got up.
- Glad I could help. Deep said, turning to leave.
- Wait a moment. I have something for you. she said, reaching in her purse.
- Oh, really, there´s no need.
- Nonsense. she cut him off, and put a few bills in his hand.
- M- ma’am. he stammered, as he noticed the sum. “This is 400$”
- And you´ve earned every cent of it.
- But... but I can´t...
- Now, you listen to me, young man. I´m the victim here, and therefore I am the only one to decide of the reward. I also have a grandson, Michael, who´se completely nuts about superheroes. Now, you may or may not be a superhero, but you helped me in my time of need, and that´s enough for me.
- But how did you know I wasn´t going to a costume party or something? he asked. She didn´t seem to notice that he was almost twice as large as she was.
- I didn´t. she said slyly. “But the fact remains, that you are probably one of very few people in this town, who´d help a person in need. And without wanting a reward for your ‘good deed’.”
- Really?
- Yes, and that is enough for me to call you a hero. Now, I intend to remember this meeting but I´d rather remember you by name than as a ‘tall man in a dragon suit’. So, what´s your name?
Deep suddenly had a strange feeling. He was sure he could trust the old woman, but still...
- Oh, call me Sezlik.
- Sezlik it is.
- Uh, could you do me a favour? he whispered in her ear. “Could you check the streets if there´s anyone coming our way?”
- Of course, dear boy. she said, and walked to each end of the alley, checking for nosy people. “Coast is clear. Only a few people around, and they´re heading away.”
- Thanks. Deep said. “So, I can trust you not to talk to anyone about this. Except maybe for your grandson?”
- Definetly. she said with a confident smile. “...But I wouldn´t bet on him though“, she pointed to the dumpster.
- Hmm... Maybe you could talk to the police... Deep began.
- ... but warn them about him saying something about a giant winged gecko? she finished the sentence for him.
- Gecko? Deep chuckled.
- ...Or something. Listen, before you go, take my card. she said, reaching again in her purse.
- Why?
- Well, my grandson is coming for a visit next week, and I thought...
- ...That I´d come for a visit? What about his parents?
- Oh, they live on the other side of the country, and are always too busy to visit, but Michael comes to visit quite often.
- Hmm, I´ll think about it, Mrs... Chase. Deep said, checking the name from the card.
- Please, call me Betty. she said.
- All right, Betty. Well, I´m off. he said, flapping his wings and soaring into the sky. He took a look at the card:

Bethany Chase
22 Birch Road
Boswell

tel: ################

Deep put the card in his jacket pocket.

Deep opened his eyes, sweating profusely. He remembered! He remembered every little detail about the dream! He rubbed his back on the spots the wings were. Were they real?
- The card!
He jumped out of bed, tripping on his blanket and thudding on the floor. Swearing, he got up. Swearing? He avoided swearing, usually... He went to the coat-rack, and searched through the pockets of the coats and jackets. Seven of them were his.

Deep had never bought a single jacket or coat in his life. He´d always get them as a present or just get them otherwise. His parents often joked about him having too many of them, but he liked them too much to even think about selling or giving them away. He found the card in the left pocket of his black leather trench coat. The card said exactly as it said in the dream. Was it a dream?

He went to the phone and called the number on the card. A few dialling tones later, he heard the phone being answered.
- Hello! Bethany Chase speaking.
- Uh, hi, Betty. This is Sezlik.
- Oh, hello, dear boy. How nice of you to call.
- Uh, yeah... Listen, when is your grandson coming over? What was he doing!?
- Michael? His plane should arrive tomorrow at half-past three at Roscoe airport. Why?
- I don´t know... Thought I´d save you the money for a cab or bus...
- That´s very generous of you.
- I don´t know... Does he have much luggage?
- Only a backpack. He doesn´t need to take clothes, since he comes to visit so often. I have a closet here ready for him.
- Great. This´ll give me a great excuse to visit. I live closer to the airport, anyway. Not much, but a few miles...
- That´s nice.
- Heh, glad I can help... again. Anyway, please call him and tell him I´ll be picking him up. I´ll be wearing glasses, a black leather trench coat...
- ... A black t-shirt and a golden cross-necklace? The same clothes you wore, when we met.
- Uh, right. By the way, my real name is Deep. Deep Wilson.
- Well, I´ll be seeing you tomorrow, Mr Wilson. Bye.
- Yeah, see ya, Mrs... Betty. Bye.
He hung up the phone. He had a feeling this was going to be awkward for him. He had no real memory of meeting her, except for a dream. Yet, she knew him, which was proof of the dream being real. But what did it mean? He was picking up her grandson the next day. Had he been wearing a costume? Did he really fly? Was he in an asylum hallucinating all this? He certainly wasn´t strong enough to throw a guy taller than him in a dumpster. He just wished he´d know what had really happened, if only to prove to himself that he wasn´t going insane. He sat on his bed and cried. He cried out of fear and frustration. Why did he have the blackouts? Who drew the pictures, if he didn´t? Who composed the song, if he didn´t? Who wrote the story, if he didn´t? What was going on?

His thoughts were cut off, as he felt a jolt, like an electrical surge, rippling through his body.
- What was th- was all he had time to think, when he doubled over in pain as it felt like someone had hit his upper back with a sledgehammer and thudded to the floor. He couldn´t scream. The pain forced all his muscles to tense, cutting off his air.

He felt like someone was trying to rip his spine apart, as he felt new joints form, lengthening his spine. His muscles were burning, his skin was tingling and his bones were cracking and popping, as they reshaped and hardened. His ears felt strange as they moved higher up in his head, his earlobes turning into something resembling fins.

He wasn´t sure if he wanted to see what was happening, but he forced his eyes open despite the pain wracking his body, and looked at his hand. Green scales were forming all over his skin, becoming darker as they hardened. His fingernails moved and grew, forming black claws, which looked razor-sharp and hard as diamonds. He closed his eyes again, as his spine was rippet apart again, or so it felt. New joints were forming in his lower back, growing a large tail behind him. Deep felt his hips widen and his pelvis adjusting to the new body part. New muscles grew, creating a burning sensation.

As he gritted his teeth, he felt them become sharper and his tongue becoming forked and more reptilian. He felt like vomiting, as his internal organs adjusted themselves to his new body.

The bones in his legs broke and reshaped as they became more animal-like. Two of his toes merged together, leaving him with four-toed, “stand-on-toes” reptilian feet.

Again, he felt pain in his back, as two large wings grew out, stretching out, giving him a wingspan of twelve feet. His back was burning as muscles formed to operate his wings. He felt his nose and upper lip merging and stretching out together with his jaw, forming a muzzle. Scales were still forming on his skin, creating a tingling sensation. He felt his gums tingling and tasted blood, as new, sharp teeth grew out.

As the pain began to subside, he realized that the changes were finished. He also realized that he´d been holding his breath throughout the transformation. The pain of the transformation, the shock of it actually happening and the lack of oxygen were too much for him. He gasped for air, and passed out. There, in Deep Wilson´s apartment, on the floor in front of his bed, lay an unconscious eight-foot, dark green, anthropomorphic dragon with shoulder long black hair.

Deep groaned and opened his eyes. He felt sore all over his body and closed his eyes again, as he pushed himself up from the floor. He felt  dizzy, and stumbled a bit as he made his way to the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and grabbed the sink´s edge. He shook his head, hoping it would help, but it only made him feel nauseous. He cupped his hands under the faucet, splashed some water on his face... and froze. Something had hit his hands before reaching his face.

He opened his eyes and looked in the mirror. His gaze was met by a pair of bright red eyes, framed by the shocked face of a dark-green, eight-foot dragon. Deep took a step back. So did the dragon. He raised his arm. So did the dragon. He looked at his hand. It was covered by small, dark green scales and had black claws on his fingertips.

He wanted to panic, but a voice of reason in the back of his head told him not to. Since when has panic helped in situations, where reason is needed? Deep chuckled unwillingly at this thought. Since when has being turned into a dragon had anything to do with reason? He really wanted to panic but for some reason he didn´t see the point of it. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard his stomach growl. He was hungry.

He stumbled to the kitchen. Walking on toes takes practice. He opened the fridge door and took out a package of steaks. He felt relieved to find the thought of eating raw meat repulsing. At least he didn´t have to worry about going on hunting trips. Trip! Michael! Airport! The thought of picking up Betty´s grandson in this state hit him like a punch in the face. How was he going to pull this off? His thoughts were interrupted again, as his stomach growled again. Well, first things first.

He put the steaks on the now-hot frying pan when he thought about the time. He went to his bedroom, leaving the steaks to fry. 9.30? It had only been two hours? Well, whatever. He´d just turned around to go back to the kitchen, when a thought hit him. He turned on his computer, and went to get the steaks before they burned. He took a plate and put the steaks on it. Grabbing a fork (he had claws now, might as well try them out at cutting things) he headed back to his room.

Crashing on his bed, he flinched from a sharp pain in his lower back. He´d completely forgot about the tail. He rubbed it gently, trying to ease the pain, then returned to eating his steaks. As he ate, he thought of ways to turn back to human. He didn´t come up with one, so he thought of excuses not to go. He didn´t come up with any for that either. He finished the steaks and looked at is computer, checking the date: July 3rd. He´d been out cold well over a day! He´ll be picking up Michael today in just a few hours.
- Shit. he said quietly. Again he cursed.

He stood up and went to the bathroom. It wasn´t until he saw himself in the mirror, that he realized: he was completely naked. Luckily, his reptilian form prevented anything embarrassing from showing. He came to think where his clothes were.

He went to his parents´ room, and found his mom´s sewing kit and a few extra zippers in it.
- Perfect. he thought as he searched his drawers for his clothes. He found is t-shirt with two holes in the back, right were his wings were. He also found the jeans he´d worn that day. They didn´t have anything wrong with them, apparently, his tail had pushed them down under it. He cut a slit, big enough to fit his tail through, in the back with his claw. He went to get his black leather trench coat, which, to his disappointment, also had two holes in the back. He took his mom´s sewing kit and went to work.

After a few hours (he wasn´t very fast at sewing) he´d put zippers in the back of his pants, his t-shirt and his trench coat to let the body parts out without destroying the fabric again and again.

Getting dressed was... interesting. He´d never had to put clothes on anything with wings and a tail before. He put on the coat, stuffed his wings through the zippers and he was ready to go. Socks and shoes seemed rather pointless, as he had protective scales and thicker skin on his feet. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out to get his bike. A 90 minute ride on the freeway to an airport full of people lay ahead of him.
- This should be interesting. he thought.