looking out of my bedroom window and this giant porcupine landed – it was from space, obviously – and all these cartoon characters came out…” Felix rattled on and Jimmy let him. He needed to gather his strength to explain what was on his mind. “…and they were like an army and they took over the garden and then I looked down and I was wearing this T-shirt and it had this logo on it and it was, like, the head of a cartoon character cos, get this – I was on their side !”
“But I dreamed ,” Jimmy insisted. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“It’s just a dream,” Felix said. “Don’t tell it me. Other people’s dreams are dull.”
“You don’t get it!” Jimmy shouted, then immediately regretted it and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t have dreams. I’ve never dreamed in my life. I train. My training is telling me something.”
Suddenly, Jimmy’s programming swirled in his stomach like a bad fry-up. His senses magnified everything around him. The sounds of the terminal intensified, as if he could hear every word of idle conversation within a 200 metre radius. The scent of metal polish and bleach filled his head.
“What’s up now?” Felix whispered.
“Keep walking,” Jimmy ordered under his breath. “Keep looking straight ahead.” In his mind he replayed the images that had put him on alert. He knew he’d spotted something. Was it a silhouette darting round the end of the check-in counter? Could he be sure? Yes, he was beginning to form a picture now – it was two figures, in fact, outlined against the lake of white light reflected in the floor. Why had they moved away from Jimmy and Felix so sharply and without their shoes squeaking?
“We’re being followed,” Jimmy muttered.
“You’ve got mental problems,” Felix countered. “But all right, I’ll play along.”
They moved towards passport control as normally as they could, but Jimmy felt the desperate drive to get there quicker.
“Come on,” he urged. By the time they handed their passports to the security officer, Jimmy was virtually dragging Felix by the arm.
“Let go,” Felix insisted. “We’re not married.”
Perhaps it was the humour in Felix’s comment. Perhaps it was Jimmy’s conviction that there were two strange figures following them. Whatever it was that distracted them, Jimmy and Felix didn’t notice when the security officer smiled. He always found aliases amusing. He nodded to his colleague at the x-ray machine.
The two boys were still anxiously glancing behind them for two phantom shadows when they were waved through the security checks. From then on, their passage on to the plane was easy. Far too easy.
Thin horizontal strips in the colours of the rainbow. Splashes of red and yellow against a dirty cream background. A white number 53 on a green background. The letter K, bold and black on a bright white wall.
Jimmy forced himself to focus on these images, bringing them into the forefront of his mind, stronger each time. They were the images he’d seen in his sleep – fragments of the first dream he had ever remembered when he woke up. He closed his eyes. The plane hadn’t even taken off yet and he was alreadydriving himself mad with these vivid pictures in his head. It even overshadowed the excitement of being on a plane for the first time.
He pulled out a set of felt tips and a notepad he’d bought in the departure lounge shopping centre. He gripped the pens and tested each colour. Then he started to draw. At first all the images fitted on one page. Then he turned to a clean sheet and drew bigger, bolder – one image per page: horizontal strips in the colours of the rainbow. Splashes of red and yellow. The number 53 – but this one was white, so he drew a green outline and coloured in the outside space. Finally, a thick K – black on white. Then his concentration was broken by an announcement from the captain over the loudspeakers.
“Good afternoon, everybody. I
“But I dreamed ,” Jimmy insisted. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“It’s just a dream,” Felix said. “Don’t tell it me. Other people’s dreams are dull.”
“You don’t get it!” Jimmy shouted, then immediately regretted it and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t have dreams. I’ve never dreamed in my life. I train. My training is telling me something.”
Suddenly, Jimmy’s programming swirled in his stomach like a bad fry-up. His senses magnified everything around him. The sounds of the terminal intensified, as if he could hear every word of idle conversation within a 200 metre radius. The scent of metal polish and bleach filled his head.
“What’s up now?” Felix whispered.
“Keep walking,” Jimmy ordered under his breath. “Keep looking straight ahead.” In his mind he replayed the images that had put him on alert. He knew he’d spotted something. Was it a silhouette darting round the end of the check-in counter? Could he be sure? Yes, he was beginning to form a picture now – it was two figures, in fact, outlined against the lake of white light reflected in the floor. Why had they moved away from Jimmy and Felix so sharply and without their shoes squeaking?
“We’re being followed,” Jimmy muttered.
“You’ve got mental problems,” Felix countered. “But all right, I’ll play along.”
They moved towards passport control as normally as they could, but Jimmy felt the desperate drive to get there quicker.
“Come on,” he urged. By the time they handed their passports to the security officer, Jimmy was virtually dragging Felix by the arm.
“Let go,” Felix insisted. “We’re not married.”
Perhaps it was the humour in Felix’s comment. Perhaps it was Jimmy’s conviction that there were two strange figures following them. Whatever it was that distracted them, Jimmy and Felix didn’t notice when the security officer smiled. He always found aliases amusing. He nodded to his colleague at the x-ray machine.
The two boys were still anxiously glancing behind them for two phantom shadows when they were waved through the security checks. From then on, their passage on to the plane was easy. Far too easy.
Thin horizontal strips in the colours of the rainbow. Splashes of red and yellow against a dirty cream background. A white number 53 on a green background. The letter K, bold and black on a bright white wall.
Jimmy forced himself to focus on these images, bringing them into the forefront of his mind, stronger each time. They were the images he’d seen in his sleep – fragments of the first dream he had ever remembered when he woke up. He closed his eyes. The plane hadn’t even taken off yet and he was alreadydriving himself mad with these vivid pictures in his head. It even overshadowed the excitement of being on a plane for the first time.
He pulled out a set of felt tips and a notepad he’d bought in the departure lounge shopping centre. He gripped the pens and tested each colour. Then he started to draw. At first all the images fitted on one page. Then he turned to a clean sheet and drew bigger, bolder – one image per page: horizontal strips in the colours of the rainbow. Splashes of red and yellow. The number 53 – but this one was white, so he drew a green outline and coloured in the outside space. Finally, a thick K – black on white. Then his concentration was broken by an announcement from the captain over the loudspeakers.
“Good afternoon, everybody. I
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