NANOVISION: What Would You Do With X-ray Vision? (13 page)

The old man
didn’t move, though Daniel wasn’t surprised. He knew the old guy never got up
before noon. Unperturbed, Daniel continued to dress, trying on his new shoes,
which he found to be too big. He walked around the room in an effort to break
them in, grabbing the new pair of sunglasses Rudy had bought in the process.
Back in the bathroom he posed, looking cool and studying his face−he
looked okay. For good measure, he doused his eyes with the nano-infused
eyedrops from his Aunt and took a swipe at his unruly hair. He was ready.
Sticking his head out of the bathroom he called to Rudy again.

“Rudy, come on...
I’m hungry...”

There was still
no response, which irked Daniel. He then realized the old man probably couldn’t
hear him. He didn’t have his hearing aid in. Peeved by his stupidity, Daniel
walked over to the bed and gave Rudy a nudge. “Come on, Rudy, it’s time to get
up.” The old man didn’t respond.

It was at that
second that Daniel realized−something wasn’t right. He pressed on Rudy’s
shoulder, softly at first, but then harder. Nothing. The old man was stiff.
Rolling Rudy over onto his back, Daniel felt the old man’s colorless face. It
was stone cold. The cold touch nearly made him jump out of his skin.
What
the fuck?
Daniel’s hands began to tremble.

“Oh, Jesus, sweet
Jesus, no...” he gasped, rubbing his hands across his face. Rudy was dead.
What
the hell? How could this happen? What was he going to do now?
Daniel
stumbled back and collapsed on the bed behind him. He stared at Rudy’s body in
complete silence.

“Fuck,” he swore,
as the finality of the situation took hold.

Picking up the
phone, he dialed the front desk. The operator answered. “Yeah, this is room 437
could you please contact the police... My... uh − my Grandfather passed
away in his sleep last night and I need some help... Yeah... Thanks.”

After hanging up
Daniel went over to Rudy. The old man looked old, really old and he hated
seeing him like this, so he pulled up the bed sheets and covered the old man’s
face.
This sucks
, he thought, gazing down on the white sheets. Rudy had
been like a second father; his eyes became moist.

Waiting for the
police was difficult, but Daniel felt better knowing that when they arrived,
he’d be able to tell them about Mickey. And more importantly, he’d be able to
find out what was going on with his Aunt and Katie. With those thoughts in mind
Daniel walked to the window. He unlatched the frame and opened it, allowing a
breeze to blow in. The air was cool and refreshing and layered with a variety
of scents−a salty array of sea, vegetation, and dew. It was invigorating.
How could someone die on such a beautiful day
, he thought?

From the fourth
floor, Daniel looked out over the city of Santa Cruz. The city was quaint and
beautiful with shops and beach houses nestled along the coastline. He could
even see the boardwalk with its huge Ferris wheel. Closer in, around the hotel
itself, there was an array of intercity businesses, banks, flower shops and
stores, most of them closed. As Daniel looked around he realized how much more
he was seeing with his new eyes. It was a totally different perspective from
what he was used to. The nanos inside his head were rapidly shifting back and
forth allowing everything in. They were multi-tasking, giving him the ability
to see objects both near and far simultaneously. It was disconcerting, and
quite frankly it made his head spin, almost to the point of hurting. His brain
was trying to adjust to all the new stimuli. How did one process and manage
seeing the seagulls gliding effortlessly over the beach a half mile away, while
at the same time note every minute detail on the black-eyed pigeon cooing on
the hotel’s ledge a mere three feet away? It was awesome, yet confusing, and
Daniel had to concentrate in order to control it.

Leaning out the
window, he began to practice. He scanned everything around him, playing with
his vision. To one side, several buildings down, there was a woman getting
dressed in her apartment. He zeroed in on her. She had to be at least a quarter
mile away and he could see the fancy stitching on her red bra. He watched her
dress for a second, but quickly felt guilty, like a peeping tom, and he turned
his head. Down the street about four blocks away some guy was feeding popcorn
to a bunch of birds − he could see the popcorn kernels scattering on the
sidewalk and the smaller birds stealing from the pigeons. Daniel turned the
other way and looked down the street to the street corner. There he saw
something odd. There was a man standing behind a car, just around the corner.
He was leaning over the car, his face partially obscured by something in his
hands. Daniel zeroed in on him, flooding his vision with a huge close up of his
head. Whoever it was, the guy was watching the hotel’s front entrance with a
pair of binoculars. Daniel gasped as the guy shifted his weight, temporarily
removing the binoculars from his face. In that instant Daniel recognized him
− It was Mickey!

As fate would
have it, Mickey caught sight of Daniel’s movement on the fourth floor and he
snapped the binoculars upward for a better look. And though his glasses were
not as powerful as Daniel’s eyes, they were enough for him to recognize the
boy−the two stared at one another, both frozen in disbelief.

The moment was
short lived. Mickey bolted for the hotel and Daniel knew he was had. He had to
get the hell outta there and now. Turning, he swept the room looking for anything
that would help his escape.
Where the fuck were Rudy’s keys?
Could he
get to the car in time?
Grabbing Rudy’s pants from the chair next to his
bed, he bundled them up in his arms and ran out the door and into the hallway.
To his good fortune, the hallway was a straight shot to the fire escape which
he ran for. Hitting the metal door with a hard thud, he crashed through and
bounded down the stairwell like a flying, bouncing ball, his feet barely
touching the floor. He had no idea where Mickey was, but there seemed little
choice−he had to find the garage and Rudy’s car.

Four floors down,
Daniel crashed through the emergency door at the rear of the hotel and exited
out into an alleyway, setting off the fire alarm. It screamed bloody murder as
he danced back and forth indecisively not knowing which way to head. The alley
before him was long and narrow, running parallel to the back of the hotel. To
his immediate left was the loading dock, several refuse dumpsters and a bunch
of empty pallets, and beyond that, the parking garage. Daniel moved in the
direction of the garage, passing by the two service egresses that connected the
hotel to the next street over. Both access streets were blocked, one by
construction barriers, the other by a truck. Making a bee line, Daniel scurried
for the garage, and for a split second thought he was home free. Then Mickey
bolted into view, cutting him off.

Daniel skidded to
a stop, sliding on the damp pavement, nearly falling to the ground. The slip
saved his life as a bullet whizzed by his head, missing it by inches, the report
of the gun echoing through the alleyway. Scrambling for dear life, Daniel was
up instantly, zigzagging back and forth like a rabbit on the run. He darted
past the trash containers using them to aid his retreat. From behind, he heard
another loud bang, the bullet ricocheting off one of the metal dumpsters. The
whining sound spurred him harder, but he was running out of options. There was
no way out except the alleyway directly ahead. The truck, halfway down the
egress to his left, was too big to get by and there was no time to crawl
underneath. Out of options, Daniel headed straight down the alley expecting the
next bullet to be in his back.

Mickey was
pissed. He’s shot twice and the little fucker was still running. With his chest
burning and muscles aching Mickey gave chase, mindless that his bad knee and
lungs hurt like hell. He ignored the pain. He was bound and determined to kill
this little fucker if it was the last thing he’d ever do. Running as fast as he
could toward the loading dock he raised his pistol for another shot, hoping to
catch the kid in the back. The shot never came. Instead, Mickey came face to
face with a delivery truck backing its way through the service egress toward
the dock. It slammed into him hard, knocking him to the ground. He rolled down
the dock’s concrete embankment, the gun flying out of his hand. It landed with
a clatter about fifteen feet away.

The driver of the
truck had no idea he’d even hit someone. He was busy watching the right rear
view mirror as he backed up, the music from his earbuds blasting away, drowning
out the ruckus that was taking place in the alley. It wasn’t until he was out
of the truck and preparing to unload his cargo that he heard Mickey’s groans.
He knew then that he’d run someone over.

Daniel had no
idea what happened, nor did he care. He just continued to run for dear life
until he was sure he had given Mickey the slip. After turning here and there,
and ducking this way and that, Daniel finally stopped to catch his breath. He
studied the cityscape around him, looking for any sign of pursuit and saw
nothing. Resting against a wall, he gulped in several deep breaths.
What
should he do? Where were the cops when you needed them?
He then noticed the
Greyhound bus sign about a block down. It was spinning around catching the
morning sun in reflection. Daniel surveyed the street. It appeared to be clear.
Could he make it there safely? What other option did he have?

The station was
relatively slow for a holiday weekend and Daniel was able to walk through the
lobby unnoticed, even though he was still breathing heavily and his face was
beet red. He went into the men’s room and took a stall where he rummaged
through Rudy’s pants, pulling out everything. There wasn’t much, car keys, his
wallet, some cash and a deck of playing cards−still it was all Daniel
needed. He counted the money out−ninety-one dollars. Hopefully it’d be
enough to buy a ticket.

Daniel exited the
stall and threw Rudy’s pants in the trash. After dousing his face with water he
went to the ticket counter.

“You got anything
leaving right now?” he asked the agent.

The guy behind
the barred window didn’t bother to look up. “I’ve got an express leaving for
Reno, Nevada... if yah hurry.” 

            “How much?” asked Daniel.

“One way or round
trip?”

“One way,”
answered Daniel.

“Sixty-six
dollars.”

Daniel nodded his
head and counted out the money. Ten minutes later he was sitting in the back of
bus 548 as it pulled out onto the streets of Santa Cruz. Hunkering down in his
seat Daniel kept his head low, but his eyes peeled. If Mickey was still out
there he didn’t want to take any chances on him seeing him. It was a good thing
too, for five blocks later Daniel caught a glimpse of Mickey standing on a
street corner. He was still searching for Daniel, but his back was to the bus
when they passed.

Chapter 8

Daniel was
exhausted. The last three days had been horrendous and he was having trouble
adjusting. Going from being a naive blind kid with amnesia; to being
super-sighted and running for his life was about as bizarre as it could get.
And now he was on a bus heading to Reno, Nevada.
What was he going to do
when he got there?
Daniel sighed. Honestly, he was too beat to think about
it. He just wanted to sleep and put the whole world away, if only for a little
while. Taking off his jacket, he made a pillow and leaned his head against the
window of the bus, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.

The next seven
hours passed with little awareness on Daniel’s part. He slept through
everything, including a three hour traffic delay caused by a semi jack-knifing
on the highway. What he didn’t realize was that as he slept more drastic
changes were occurring inside him−that the nanites given him by his aunt
were continuing to rebuild not only his eyes, but the very neuro-pathways
linking his brain. He was being literally rewired, which had he known, would
have explained the reason he was so tired. When he finally awoke, the sun was
behind him and setting low on the horizon, its light casting a delicious
strawberry pink glow on the white-capped Sierra Nevada Mountains. To Daniel,
the view was absolutely beautiful and he hoped it was an indication of better
things to come.

In the waning
light, the rest of the bus trip was made in darkness which didn’t bother Daniel
a bit. He was able to see through it with very little trouble and he used the
time to mull his thoughts on what he would do when he got to Reno. The first
thing would be to get ahold of Judy Salinski. That was a given. If he could
reach her everything would be okay. Content with his plan, Daniel sat back and
enjoyed the rest of the bus ride, using up the last of his eyedrops and
occupying his time with Rudy’s deck of cards. Finally, the city of Reno came
into view and Daniel found his mood bolstered by the bright, multi-colored
lights that illuminated the skyline and the icy waters of the Truckee river.
His cheeriness didn’t last.

Pulling into the
Greyhound bus depot, Daniel was immediately put off by what he saw. The darkly
lit Reno station was the complete opposite of the one in Santa Cruz. The
station here was stark in appearance, gray and dull looking, not to mention
cold as hell with dirty crusty snow and ice layering the streets and sidewalks
in ugly piles. Finding a payphone was also a chore. Daniel had to ask
directions and get change, whereupon he was forced outside into the cold night
air to make his call.

Standing alone,
outside under the dim fluorescent lighting, Daniel felt exposed. There were too
many homeless milling about, beggars seeking handouts, which was something he
wasn’t used to. Still, he needed to make his call so he put the change on the
metal plat at the base of the phone, and popped a quarter in the slot, dialing
9-1-1. After several rings the operator answered.

“9-1-1, please
state your emergency.”

“Yeah, hi, I need
to get ahold of someone in the FBI,” Daniel began.

“Sir, this is the
emergency operator. What is your emergency?”

Daniel hesitated.
“I need help. There’s a man trying to kill me and I need to speak to the FBI.
Can you connect me?”

“Sir, this is
9-1-1 not directory assistance.”

“I know, but this
guy’s been following me.”

“Is the man there
now?” asked the operator.

“No, he’s in
California.”

“Sir, this is
9-1-1 for Reno, Nevada. Is your life being presently threatened?”

“No, but I need
help...”

Unexpectedly,
Daniel felt a hand on his shoulder. It gripped him hard, pushing him into the
phone. Jumping and twisting in reaction, Daniel turned to face a homeless guy
dressed in tattered clothes leering over him−his breath stinking of
whiskey. “Hey, kid,” the guy mumbled. “Can yah spare some change for a vet?”

Daniel reacted
defensively. He dropped the phone and pushed the guy back, shouting. “Get away
from me!”

Surprised by the
outburst, the drunk stood there swaying. “Thaaat’s n-n-not very nice,” he
swaggered, jabbing his finger toward Daniel. Daniel looked around fearfully;
another hobo was approaching. Hastily, he swept his hand across the metal plat
and the change that lay there, sending the dimes, quarters, and nickels onto
the ground. The coins scattered and bounced on the sidewalk, drawing the
attention of several more homeless. Daniel watched as they scurried for the
money−the diversion giving him the opportunity to slip away.

 Out on the
street Daniel moved quickly, heading toward the bright lights of downtown Reno.
He cursed to himself. How could he have been so stupid? A gust of wind slapped
him in the face nipping him angrily, forcing him to wrap his arms and jacket
around himself in an effort to keep warm. It was fucking freezing. His teeth
were chattering his stomach growling−he needed to get out of the cold
before he froze to death. As angry as he was over the phone booth incident, it
could wait. He would make his call later.

Reaching Second
Street, Daniel found himself in between Harrah’s and the Club Cal Neva, two
local casinos. Both were lit with flashing neon begging everyone who passed to
enter, play, and eat. It was exactly what Daniel needed−shelter. Entering
the Club Cal Neva he looked around at the casino, walking through the slots and
around the table games. The place smelled of beer, hotdogs, and cigarettes just
like the Nugget back home, only this time Daniel knew he was legal, legal,
legal. They couldn’t kick him out. Grabbing two beer dogs from a small
concession stand, Daniel stuffed his mouth and washed it all down with a
coke−it helped fill the void. As he ate he studied the blackjack tables.
He was nearly out of money and had no place to stay. If he was going to
survive, he was going to have to use everything Rudy taught him to make some
money so he could get home.

Daniel searched
for a Blackjack game that wasn’t busy, a table where he could play without
looking like a total novice. The table he selected was a dead spread, a six
deck shoe with a three dollar minimum. Daniel hoped he had enough. He needed to
start conservatively as he only had twenty bucks left. Still, if he could win,
he’d be all right.

Putting the
twenty on the table, Daniel asked for change. The dealer glanced at him with a
sour look and sighed. Daniel was interrupting the football game he was watching
on one of the overhead TVs, and he wasn’t too thrilled at being
disturbed−especially over a twenty dollar buy-in.

“You got ID?” he
asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

Daniel pulled out
his wallet and handed the dealer his license, while noting his name tag. His
name was ‘Marc’ and he hailed from South Dakota.

“Damn cold out
there tonight,” commented Daniel, making small talk. “But I guess you’re used
to that?”

“Oh yeah,”
responded Marc, half-heartedly.

After verifying
his age, Marc handed Daniel his license back. He called out, “change twenty,”
then proceeded to run down a stack of dollar chips or checks as Rudy called
them, passing them to Daniel with a lukewarm, “good luck.”

“Thanks,”
responded Daniel. He was unperturbed by Marc’s lack of enthusiasm and eager to
begin.

With excited
anticipation he watched as Marc shuffled and stripped the six decks, his
fingers nimbly riffling the cards into a six deck shoe. When he finished he
offered Daniel the cut.      

“This is my first
time playing,” noted Daniel fervently, as he cut the cards. “I’ve been
practicing at home.”

“You don’t say,”
responded Marc. “Well, maybe you’ll have beginners luck.”

“Boy, I hope so,”
answered Daniel. “I really need it.”

Mark burnt a card
and began to deal, placing the cards in front of Daniel’s chips. He gave Daniel
a fourteen with his up card showing a seven of clubs. Daniel hesitated, the
wheels in his mind spinning as he tried to remember Rudy’s instructions.
What
should he do?
Unexpectedly, as Daniel concentrated, he felt a throbbing at
the side of his head, first one side then the other−and his vision became
blurry. He rubbed his temples, then the bridge of his nose between the eyes,
pushing his sunglasses aside to relieve the pressure. This was not a good time
to get a headache, he thought, but what happened next blew him away. He began
to see an image bleeding through Marc’s seven of clubs−it was a queen of
diamonds... Marc had a pat seventeen.

Daniel muttered
to himself. “Holy cannoli!” He took a hit, drawing a ten and busted.

“So much for
beginner’s luck,” commented Marc.

“I think things
are about to change,” responded Daniel, a tad more positive in his attitude. He
made another three dollar bet.

Oddly, it was
Daniel’s desire to see the next card that triggered everything and the nanites
inside him whirled into motion to make it happen. Together they were working in
unison, shifting and focusing to make Daniel’s wish a reality. Somewhere at the
genetic level the isotopes powering the nanites kicked in, tapping into the
electrical current of Daniel’s brain, initiating a tiny magnetic pulse. As the
pulse grew, it pushed outward through the metallic lattice framework of
Daniel’s eyes much like an MRI.

Daniel had no
idea how it worked. He simply became aware of seeing more; that with the smallest
of effort he could see through the cards on the table−albeit, everything
was in reverse. The process was clumsy and awkward at first, and it gave Daniel
pause, but he quickly caught on, and by the fourth hand he had it down. Not
only could he see Marc’s hole card, but he could read the next card coming out
of the shoe. The process made for an almost perfect system, and though
sometimes he still lost, he was basically unbeatable.

Daniel realized
now what had transpired two nights earlier when Mickey had appeared at his
home−how he saw him through the wall. This was the same thing. Only
tonight he seemed to have more control and he certainly wasn’t running for his
life. After fifteen minutes of play Daniel was up fifty bucks and he was
elated. If all went well he’d be able to buy a plane ticket home and get Aunt
Ethyl out of jail. Hell, he could be a millionaire. That would be so cool. He
then remembered Rudy’s advice.
Go easy−don’t draw attention to
yourself. And make sure you tip!

By the time Marc
had finished his twenty minutes of dealing and was tapped off the game, he’d
made thirty bucks off of Daniel. He was much more content and happily wished
Daniel continued luck as he left the game. The next dealer tapped in and what
happened next took Daniel by complete surprise.

It was a female
dealer and she greeted Daniel with a warm hello.

Daniel’s mouth
fell open. Standing before him was a vision; a young, perky short-haired blond,
about thirty-two years of age with a face that could melt stone. To some, she
would have been considered a jaded diamond on her second trip around the block,
but to Daniel she was a model of beauty.

“Hello, my name’s
Paige,” she cooed, affectionately. “Welcome to the Club Cal Neva.”

Daniel’s heart
skipped a beat as he took in the alluring blue eyes and soft pink lips that
smiled at him. And though he wanted to respond to Paige in the worst
way−he couldn’t−because she was standing right there in front of
him naked as a Playboy Bunny. Her uniform, white shirt, bow tie and apron were
gone, exposing her body and breasts for the entire world to see. It was more
than Daniel was prepared for and he jumped back from the table like he’d been
bitten by a snake, knocking over both his chips and the chair behind him.

Paige was taken
aback and couldn’t help but giggle. She’d seen a lot of men react to her, but
to elicit this kind of response was unexpected to say the least. “Sir, are you
okay?” she asked, the mirth showing in her eyes.

Swearing under
his breath, Daniel nodded his head as he bent down to retrieve the chair from
the floor. He felt like a fool.
How was he to know that was going to happen?
It was her fault.
Looking again at Paige he took in everything−he
couldn’t help it. She was awesome, simply awesome. Her breasts were gorgeous, a
nice size, perky and firm and her nipples,
for God’s sake they were pierced!
He couldn’t believe it. She had pierced nipples and a small diamond pin stuck
in her belly button.
Oh my God!

Daniel turned
beet red and Paige wasn’t sure whether to laugh or call for security. “Are you
okay?” she asked again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Daniel nodded
again, keeping his eyes glued to the felt as he re-stacked his chips. When he
looked up, Paige was once again dressed in full uniform. “Thank God,” he
muttered with a sigh of relief. “Can I get a new shoe?” he asked.

The next twenty
minutes rocked Daniel’s world, making him forget about everything. He may as
well have been a love sick puppy. Though he tried to get his head back into the
game, it was hard to concentrate. He kept getting lost in Paige’s eyes and
breasts. Making matter worse, she was trying to be helpful; correcting his
every play.