It didn’t. The wind kept whistling, the rocks kept, I don’t know, rocking, and the snipers kept plinking away. The Thunderbird hadn’t done shit.
Fortunately, the flashback let go of me on its own a couple seconds later. But I had a nasty feeling more were on the way.
I realized the other players were all looking at me and waiting for me to act. I checked my cards, found ace-queen, and reraised Gimble. He thought for a moment, then mucked.
I made it through a couple more hands. Then Dad was back, skinny as a pencil, the forked rubber hose in his nose chaining him to the oxygen tank. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he said. “I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to take care of me, or ask for special treatment.”
“Jesus Christ!” I said. “Did you think I liked it over there?” I spun around toward Victoria, and she flinched from whatever she saw in my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Except that I didn’t really say any of it out loud. But I had the urge to, just like when I lived through this shit the first time. That’s how real the hallucination felt.
I threw the Thunderbird again, giving it everything I had without caring about the spike of pain inside my chest.
The illusion didn’t even flicker. It was like throwing a punch that didn’t connect.
When I came back from Dad’s house, Leticia was looking at me with a worried expression on her perfect face. I felt her concern for me-real or fake-as strongly as I felt her sex appeal, like she was Mother Teresa and Jenna Jameson in one package. It made me want to trust her, and I clamped down on the impulse.
“Don’t you feel well?” she asked. “You’re white as snow.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Maybe we could take our break early,” she said.
That was actually a good idea. It would give me a chance to talk to Timon. Maybe he could fix whatever was wrong with me.
But Wotan boomed, “Hell, no! He plays by the rules or he loses.” He looked at the Pharaoh. “Right?”
The mummy sighed, and blue smoke swirled from his cracked, flaking lips. “I hate to be… harsh with a novice player. But yes, you are within your rights to insist on that.”
“I’m not a beginner,” I said, “and I already said I’m all right. Whose deal is it?”
Wotan sneered. “Yours.”
Hoping my hands wouldn’t shake, I gathered up the cards.
I figured the one thing I had going for me was that, so far at least, the flashbacks only lasted a few seconds. If I could tough them out and focus on the game in between, maybe I’d be all right. But I couldn’t keep playing aggressively. I’d be doing well if I just avoided serious mistakes.
The flashbacks kept coming. These were some of the highlights:
Vic and I returned the rented jet skis at the end of the afternoon, with the sun sinking toward the blue waters of the gulf. I liked the way she looked in her wet bikini. She caught me looking, laughed, and then, right there on the dock in front of dozens of tourists, and even though she usually wasn’t much for PDA’s, she grabbed me and kissed me again and again, for no reason except that she felt as great as I did and loved me as much as I did her.
I walked across the stage, and the principal handed me my diploma. As I flipped the tassel on my mortarboard from one side to the other, I looked out at the crowd and saw Dad grinning. I grinned back, proud that I’d made him proud.
When I came back from patrol and got online, I had a bunch of video messages from Vic waiting for me, just like always. I saw her smile, and Afghanistan let go of me for a while.
I was on my way back from the bathroom when I heard somebody crying. I sneaked to where I could peek out into the living room. Even though we were the only two people left in the house, I was somehow surprised to see it was Dad crying. It was the first time I realized he was as broken up about my mom dying as I was. But he was trying to keep it together for my sake.
Anger twisted Vic’s pretty face into ugliness, and her wide blue eyes looked crazy. She yelled at me because both Visas were maxed out.
Dad tossed me the keys to the T-bird, then laughed at the surprised expression on my face. “I can tell you really like this girl,” he said. “So you should pick her up in something that will make an impression.”
The prisoners were supposed to be al-Qaeda. But I still had a bad feeling about handing them over to the interrogators. Maybe it was because the spooks wouldn’t even come right out and say they were CIA, even though we all knew it. I argued until the lieutenant ordered me to shut up. He looked ashamed as he did it.
I was all ready to get shot down as I walked across the food court toward Victoria and her friends. I wasn’t one of the hardcore kids. I wasn’t in a gang or anything like that. But I did get into trouble. I definitely didn’t make the honor roll, or take SAT prep classes I didn’t even need. So why would a girl like her want to talk to me?
When one of the other girls noticed me, their faces were no friendlier than I expected. But, her blond hair shining even under the dull fluorescent lights, Victoria gave me a smile that was warm and shy at the same time.
Not long after that little return trip to the mall ended, my head started pounding, and my guts cramped. My instincts told me it was a new attack, not a part of the hallucinations. My opponents could see that something was wrong with me-that I was vulnerable-and somebody was trying to hex me in a different way. Ignoring the jab of pain it brought, I visualized the Thunderbird, and the aches in my head and stomach faded. It was nice that my magic was still good for something.
But no protection when a flashback swallowed me again.
I could tell you a hundred shitty things about Afghanistan. But the hash was amazing. Maybe they mixed it with opium. Lying on my cot, I felt like I was floating, and so relaxed I was numb in a happy way.
Visions came and went. Corvettes from the fifties and sixties rolling slowly through the tent one at a time. Red roses growing up out of the dirt. Zebras with green stripes instead of black. Fantasy Fest in Key West, with all the topless girls in their beads and body paint.
I knew none of it was real. And it occurred to me that the craziest thing of all, my poker game with a bunch of monsters-like a painting of dogs playing poker, only even goofier-probably wasn’t, either.
I know: Just that afternoon, I’d told Gimble I didn’t have any trouble telling what was real and what wasn’t. But that was when my mind wasn’t under attack.
And despite the sad, scary things I’d seen there, maybe it was tempting to think Afghanistan was what was real. Because if it was, Dad was still alive and healthy, at least as far as I knew. Vic still loved me and was waiting for me to come home. I was still going to go to college and make everybody proud.
Evidently my attacker, whoever it was, could tell this was the hallucination that might actually crack me. He or she apparently wasn’t able to make it last any longer. But it started repeating over and over again.
The blissful what-me-worry high-the feeling that the poker game couldn’t be real-started to hang on even when I was seeing the ballroom. I had to stifle the urge to break out laughing. I wanted to go all in with garbage, get up, grab Leticia, and kiss her, or punch Wotan in his hairy, tattooed face, just to see what would happen.
Somehow, I kept it together. Until Queen’s mouth fell open in surprise. “My eggs,” she rasped.
Head bobbing, Gimble turned to her. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there’s a problem!” she said. “I adjusted my cycle. I shouldn’t be laying. Which of you did this to me?”
Nobody spoke up. I jerked in my seat and made a hiccupping noise as I struggled not to laugh.
“Do you forfeit?” Gimble asked. “It won’t reflect poorly on you. Not under these circumstances.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she said. “No, I don’t forfeit. I just need my maids to attend me.”