I
felt as alien as the bug-eyed ET that decorated my t-shirt.
|
|
My
grasp of Egyptian lingo hadn't improved at all over the
day or two I'd been hanging around the Suq area of Cairo,
but I was getting used to being misunderstood. At least
I'd stopped freaking out at every little oddball stare tossed
my way by the inhabitants.
|
|
Food
was no problem. I didn't have to stuff my face unless I wanted
to - for its entertainment value only. And the one place I
really needed to get to was so far away it might as well have
been on Mars. I was an alien all right. I didn't know anyone.
I didn't know why I'd been carted halfway around the world
and dumped in the Middle East. I didn't know anything. |
|
That's
my life. |
|
'Salami
alaikim,' I muttered to an old man in dirty white robes
with an unravelling tea-towel on his head. What I'd said didn't
sound quite right, but surely he'd get the point? |
|
My Arabic didn't seem to impress the old man. And he was obviously
wondering what I was doing loitering at the entrance to a
dark alley. |
|
I
grinned. His move. |
|
He
muttered something, pointing at me. His hand was grotty and
wrinkled. Was he trying to scrounge? 'Okay, okay!' I said,
producing a coin from my pocket. I didn't have much of an
idea what it was worth. |
|
He
looked at the coin, spat into the dirt at my feet and lunged
at me. I leapt into a kung-fu defence, but he was already
past me and striding down the alley. He glanced back and shot
some Arabic words at me. |
|
I
waved, though I reckon whatever he'd said wasn't too friendly.
He spat again and turned away. |
|
'Name's
Shine!' I yelled, letting my middle finger drift up and jiggle
at his back. When he took a last look before disappearing
through a doorway, I pretended I was scratching my forehead. |
|
With
nothing else to do, I decided to go in search of coffee. Hadn't
had any for yonks. Maybe my coin - which I'd acquired by a
bit of sleight-of-hand in the market - would pay for a cup
or two. |
|
What
I really wanted was to be back home in Albion Bay, not here
in an unfamiliar city surrounded by strangers I couldn't talk
to. It was freaky. I'd been lurking around on planet Earth
since getting myself born in 1956 which might've made me an
experienced old dude, except I'd died a week after I turned
sixteen and had come back as a ... whatever I am. A Shade.
A phantom. A thing made of shadows. |
|
Spookshow
baby. |
|
And
I didn't know zip. Sure, I played guitar. Made a bit of money
from my music. Owned a house. Read comics. Hung with my Shady
mates. That sort of stuff. But getting stuck in Cairo made
me twig to the fact that I hadn't learnt much over the years.
Not that was useful. I barely knew where Cairo was. Couldn't
speak Arabic. Didn't know how to get home. Couldn't catch
a plane, as all the lights in the cabin would cause a fairly
confined bit of panic when I turned into a ghost. What's more,
I didn't understand the first thing about being normal --
not there in Cairo, not home in Albion Bay. |
|
Pathetic,
man. |
|
The
turbulence that had landed me in Cairo had left lots of scars
on my psyche, too, so I wasn't keen to experiment with leaping
blind into the dark. We Shades can sort of walk into one shadow
and then out another by travelling through the Shadowedge.
Pretty neat trick. But it needs concentration - and a place
to focus on. That place is best if it's in plain sight. And
'plain sight' only got me across the street, not across the
world. |
|
Anyway,
I wasn't about to go into the Shadowedge right then. It was
completely stuffed, more like a raging tornado full of teeth
and claws than a tunnel of shadows we Shades could slide through
with ease. Pretty well wiped me out last time I stepped in
it. Its turbulence had something to do with the wind storm
that had devastated the place where I lived - Nimjala and
the Albion Bay area on the south coast of Australia. I remembered
that a Shadow wind, dark and deadly, had poured out of nowhere
like muck out of a busted sewer pipe. Where had it come from?
The Shadow Realm, sure, otherwise known as Tenebra. But why?
Didn't make sense - not that anything about Tenebra made much
sense. |
|
Tenebra's
a humungous place - wrapped through the real world and lying
behind it like a vast lightless ocean of otherworldly muck,
full of evil freaks and monsters. Take, for example, the looney-toon
Night Beast I'd been stuck in, the one that got me in this
pickle. Weird. Fractured images of it lurked in the deepest
parts of my brain, but only came to light when I wasn't paying
attention. All that came to mind were a few scraps. |
|
Certainly
the Night Beast had been big. Made up of dark matter. It had
got itself a body of sorts by lumping together the shadows
of dead people. Cassandra - a cool Shade buddy of mine - had
been in the Night Beast in ways I didn't really understand
at all. Anyway, when the Beast got sucked out of the real
world and back into the Shadowedge, I'd been taken with it
and pretty well everything had become so bizarro from that
point on my mind short-circuited. |
|
Next
thing I knew I was tumbling out of the Edge into a thick,
stale darkness way beneath the ground. Surrounded by rocks
and broken crockery. There was so little light - like none
- I didn't need my sunnies. That made vision easier. We Shades
can see better in the dark than in the light - especially
as light blinds us and makes us fade. |
|
'This
is where he is,' whispered a voice. |
|
Was
there someone there with me? |
|
No.
Surely not. I didn't remember anyone being with me on the
trip. |
|
Metal
ornaments decorated the walls. Along one side were what looked
like stone coffins. Hieroglyphics were painted over everything. |
|
I
didn't realise it right then, but later I found out I was
in Egypt - deep inside an ancient tomb. My life's quite a
ride, eh? |
|
I
spotted a cafe that looked nice and dingy. So I tossed off
the memories and headed that way, sticking to the shaded parts
of the street. The Suq was gloomy and narrow, so even in broad
daylight it was pretty safe for a light-sensitive freak like
me. It would've been safer to only come out at night, natch,
and to stay hidden during the day. But what can I say? I got
bored easy. |
|
Few
lights were on in the cafe and they were dim. Its single other
customer had plonked himself close by the window, as a bit
of a gesture to afternoon cheeriness. Down the back it was
real murky. I went in and edged myself into one of the darker
corners. |
|
A
thin man in jeans and a floppy Hawaiian shirt asked me something.
I assumed he was the cafe owner. |
|
'Coffee?'
I asked, emphasising the question mark and holding up my coin. |
|
He
considered it, sighed, then nodded and snatched the money.
He came back a few moments later with a small cup filled with
the black mud they serve as coffee. |
|
While
I sipped it, I stared across the room and out into the street.
People bustled by, lots of them. All different. Some carried
pots and baskets. A few rode push-bikes. A guy on a Honda
putt-putt drove past, weaving about unsteadily; everyone ignored
him, as though it was his problem if he ran them down. Dust
billowed up off the road, stirred by his tyres. There were
heaps of kids playing, running, yelling. A big fat woman strolled
past, holding the hands of a boy and a girl. They completely
blocked the path, and had no intention of being hurried by
anyone. I wondered what would've happened if the motorbike
had come by at just that moment. |
|
What
really bugged me was that they seemed to belong there. Not
like me. I didn't belong anywhere. |
|
Suddenly
a skinny chick in gypsyish rags and a filthy jumper - even
though it was pretty hot - appeared next to my table. She
dumped a load of peanuts in front of me. She must have been
no older than me, but her fingers were as scabby and withered
as an old woman's. Her dark eyes stared at me expectantly.
She wanted money. |
|
'Sorry'
I said, flapping my empty hands about. 'Nuthin'.' |
|
She
gathered up her peanuts and limped off, her expression totally
blank. I felt rotten. There were heaps of beggars in Cairo
and she'd been one of the more needy looking. She had a twisted
leg. Bit of a bummer, I reckon. |
|
I
watched her leave. She didn't bother approaching the cafe's
only other customer. |
|
Which
of course made me notice him. |
|
His
clothes were rather westernized - white shirt and suit, though
without a tie. The suit looked a tad grubby. He was wearing
a turban. His face was gaunt, sporting a black moustache and
thick eyebrows. His piercing eyes turned toward me as though
he'd sensed my attention. He had thin, sharp lips and they
grinned crookedly. Lots of teeth. |
|
Uh-oh. |
|
He
stood and came toward me. As he did, he pulled a wallet from
his coat pocket. His right hand held a lighter. |
|
Great.
I'd seen this performance before. Street marketeers would
try to flog you a wallet. To prove it was a good one, they'd
set it alight. Weird, I know, if a bit of a chuckle. |
|
But
I didn't need light thrown in my face. If it was strong enough
and near enough, it'd turn me ghostly. |
|
I
waved at him. 'No!' I said. 'Lah. Don't want it. Lah.'
He grinned and came closer, showing me the wallet, holding
it out as though it was a crucifix and I was a vampire. Before
I could think to get out of his way, he had me trapped in
the corner. |
|
Suddenly
he spat out some sinister and un-beggar-like words. His lighter
flared. Fuel levels were set high and the flame that sparked
from it seemed like a bomb blast. I felt its light splash
across my face as the man thrust it under my nose. |
|
'Hey!
Nick off, jerk!' I cried. |
|
His
grin widened and he shouted in triumph. Had he been deliberately
testing me for Shadyness? Leaping to my feet, I lashed out
and knocked the lighter from his hand. Its flame snapped out
as the lighter rattled over the dusty floor. |
|
'Whatcha
playin' at, freak?' I snarled. |
|
He
yelled some words I later found out meant 'Evil demon!' Then
he threw himself across the table, his hands going for my
throat, ripping at my t-shirt. He slammed me against the wall. |
|
I
grabbed his wrists, twisted and broke his grip. Though I look
like a fifteen-year-old, I'm strong. Not Superman strong,
but World-Championship-Wrestling strong. The man cursed. |
|
'Who
are you?' I said, holding him off me. I don't think he understood.
At any rate he didn't answer. He kept thrashing about, trying
to get loose. |
|
By
this stage, the owner of the place and several of his relatives
were taking an interest in proceedings. They appeared behind
my attacker and dragged him off me. I let go of his arms,
muttering thanks. I had to get out of there. |
|
The
owner gestured at me to stay where I was. |
|
I
couldn't understand what any of them were saying. There was
lots of yelling. A string of what sounded like threats tumbled
from the cafe owner's lips. My attacker yelled back. They
were all waving their hands around. The man pointed at me
and said something nasty. The owner looked, then laughed and
struck the man's shoulder. Finally, the cafe owner and one
of his mates grabbed the man, dragged him to the door and
tossed him into the street. He hit the ground with a wallop,
causing a momentary eddy in the passing crowd as everyone
skirted around him. |
|
Before
I could blink, he was on his feet. He yelled something else.
When the cafe owner spat at him, he ran off. |
|
'Sorry
you was... found out,' said a young guy who popped up at just
that moment. Perhaps he'd meant to say 'disturbed'. Cafe owner's
son? His eyes studied me knowingly. They were large and bright
against the dark skin of his face. |
|
I
gestured that it didn't matter. I wasn't about to argue the
toss. |
|
He
glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was nearby. |
|
Then
he leaned closer. His finger pointed. |
|
'Shades,'
he whispered. |
|
And
he wasn't talking about my sunglasses. |
|
|
|