Chapter 29
Richie sat alone on the hospital bed, legs crossed as he meditated. He still felt sick as a dog, but he thought that maybe tapping into the higher planes of the universe might mellow him out a little.
The weird Doctor lady had somehow turned off his psychic communication with Bobby, which bummed him out a lot. He had finally begun to convince his brother that his spiritual awakening was worth a damn, even if he hadn’t made any progress with his brother on the topic of his decision to resist the draft. But now it was all quiet in his head.
Maybe he could reconnect on his own, he thought. Now that he understood that it was something he was capable of.
He thought about how the doctor always seemed to be able to make him feel all mixed up. It wasn’t just confusion, it was… almost like she was making him think he was Bobby. Like she was taking his and Bobby’s mind and cutting them together like tobacco and mary jane. It was wild.
Could he do it himself? Well, there was only one way to find out. He thought long and hard about his brother, imagining himself in Bobby’s straight-laced boots.
“I’m Bobby,” he said, trying to get in character. “I’m a stick-in-the-mud blowhard who looks down on people for thinking differently to the mainstream. I have a nagging wife called Brenda who voted for Nixon. I drive a bland white Chevy and live in the suburbs. I love war. War is the best. I’m a big tough military boy now and I want a big boy gun to shoot at people in their own country.”
Well, he wasn’t exactly being empathetic about his twin. It didn’t seem to be changing his thoughts the way the doctor had. He guessed he was going about this the wrong way.
But then, a small, but familiar, voice piped up in the back of his mind.
Is that really what you think of me…?
“Bobby?”
No, it’s Santa Claus, ya dope. Of course it’s me.
“Welcome to the party!” Richie grinned. “So, am I wrong? About you, I mean.”
Assuming partial control of the shared body, Bobby scowled. “I don’t love war, jerk.”
Richie uncrossed and stretched his legs. “Then why didn’t you come with me to the commune?”
“Because I face things like a man, okay? I’m no coward.” Bobby pouted.
Richie lay back on the bed, feeling a lump forming in his throat. “Being against this war is not cowardly, Bobby. Do you know how many people have been killed over there? For nothing?”
“It’s not for nothing. We’re fighting communism.”
“Well, I don’t want to fight communism. It’s not fair that our own government should force us into dying for a cause we don’t even necessarily understand or believe in.” Richie wiped away tears from his eyes. “And I don’t want you to come home in a casket, especially if it’s pointless. I love you, okay? You big jerk.”
“You… you do? Even though I called you a coward?”
“I admit, it hurts. But you’re my brother. I don’t care that we disagree, I just wish you understood where I’m comin’ from, man.”
“Richie…” Bobby moved his right hand to his left and held it, as if they weren’t hands that were part of the same body. “I guess… I love you too. You damn strung-out hippie.”
And in a strange instant, it was as though they were one person, and they understood one another on a level that neither had ever imagined before. Suddenly, they were completely synchronised, and at peace. Despite the differing points of view, they became fully aware of the other’s perspective and their misunderstandings dissipated like mist.
You really do care about me…
You really are willing to die for the country…
You’re not a coward.
You gotta do what you gotta do.
The nausea and headache lifted, and they felt… well, as ‘normal’ as two physically and psychologically blended brothers could be.
A moment later, a disembodied voice echoed from the ceiling of the room.
“Terribly sorry to interrupt your couples therapy,” said the sultry woman’s voice, “but whatever you just did, Misters Deleon, I’d like it if you kept it up, if that is at all possible. It appears to have solved the problems I have been encountering in our Imaging systems.”
“Who are you?” the twins asked, looking upward in confusion. They had no clue what she was talking about, but they could certainly stay like this for a while. They hadn’t felt so well in days.
“Call me… Ziggy Stardust,” she said, with a hint of amusement lacing her otherwise emotionless voice.
* * *
(As the previous scene’s events were playing out…)
One foot in front of the other, was all Sam A could think about until he became aware that he’d been taken indoors somewhere.
He wasn’t sure what kind of indoors, except that there were a lot of people around him. Faces he thought he probably should recognise, but he didn’t. They seemed to blend together into a single mass of judgemental eyes staring at him.
He was roughly thrown to the floor by those guys from before, whoever they were. Why were they treating him this way? It wasn’t very nice.
“Okay, Sam—listen to me,” said Al’s voice, “Just stay right there and don’t move, okay? No matter what happens, just stay put unless I tell you.”
“Yeah, okay Al,” he muttered. Staying put sounded like a good idea. He barely had any perception of what his limbs were doing, so he was probably better off not using them. “No problem.”
He was fairly sure he was sitting on the floor now, hunched over. His attempt to straighten his neck resulted in overcompensation, and he fell back, flailing his hand out to keep from toppling over.
He lifted his head back to a semi-straight position, and finally spotted Al, who was looking down at him with deep concern.
“It’s alright,” he reassured his friend. “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”
“Well, you may feel okay, but you’re in big trouble,” said Al, tapping at his handlink. “So just remember what I told you.”
What did he tell me?
Someone else talking drifted into his perception. Danny, was it? Yeah, it sounded like him. Sam leaned toward the voice, trying to focus on what he was saying.
“—Making all of us give up our stash, only to get high on your confiscated dope!”
What?
“I didn’t,” Sam protested. “It wasn’t me…” Sam pointed at Danny, as he felt eyes on him from every direction. “He did.”
Danny turned to him with a smirk. “I did what, Al?”
Al? Sam looked up at his friend in confusion. He didn’t realise these people could see him, but here they were asking him a question.
“He means you, Sam,” Al said.
“Me what?”
“Oh boy.” Al ran a hand over his face. “Tell them—”
At that moment, Al flickered and disappeared.
Sam reached out a hand to the empty space where he’d been.
“No… come back…”
“This is a star child?” Danny continued, laughing. “He can’t even answer a simple question. Face it, Richie was lying to us.” Danny leaned down to Sam, grinning. “Isn’t that so, Richie?”
Sam stared back blankly. Whoever Richie was, it wasn’t him. He figured he’d wait for whoever that guy was to reply.
In the meantime, he busied himself trying to make the floor stop turning. He was vaguely aware of conversation happening around him, but it wasn’t making much sense to him.
Somewhere in the mix was Marsha’s voice, which sounded distressed. It got louder and louder until a hand on his cheek made him realise that she was crouched beside him. She said something to him, but he didn’t realise it until after the words were spoken, so he didn’t catch what they were.
“What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Al, what happened? I swear I took all of the drugs away. How did you end up like this?!”
Sam frowned, trying to formulate a coherent sentence. “He shot the… the hog?”
“Who?”
“Uh, Danny. In a yellow needle.” He wasn’t sure if he was putting his message across, but he barrelled on. “Now I can taste metal… I think I might die soon, but… I have to stay here until Al comes back.”
Marsha looked at him with deep confusion. “Al, I don’t know what you’re saying.”
Sam sighed, shutting his eyes. “I know. That was the point.”
And then some music drifted to his ears from somewhere across the room, distracting him from the conversation at hand.
“Good morning star shine… the Earth says hello…”
And then the sound of something slamming. Sam scanned the room, and his eyes finally rested on… Me?
“You twinkle above us, we twinkle below…”
He watched himself stride into the room, and the crowd around him parted like the Red Sea. Except a few guys didn’t move out of the way, and Sam started hitting them in the stomach with a plank of wood. He idly wondered how he could be doing that when he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to get up. And in fact he could still feel the floor under his hand. Well, maybe he could do both.
“Good morning star shine, you lead us along…”
As the men fell to the floor, Sam approached himself, extending a hand.
“Come on, we gotta get out of here.”
“My love and me as we sing, our early morning singin’ song…”
With confusion, he felt himself being raised from the floor, even though he could see himself already standing up.
“But Al told me not to move…”
“Change of plans,” came Al’s voice. “Get going, Sam.”
“Oh. Alright.”
“Gliddy glup gloopy, nibby nabby noopy la la la lo lo…”
The lyrics of the song were about as coherent as anything else Sam was currently experiencing, so he paid it no mind.
He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to beat up those guys when he couldn’t even walk straight, but he guessed he’d figure that one out later.