Drawing The Lines Charly felt the tremors even before an earthquake rocked the village. Grout and dust fell from the ceiling of the old hardware store in the middle of nowhere, Oregon. Despite the late hour the place was unusually crowded with four customers. The wooden beams and columns groaned under the assault of the natural forces.
“Everyone out of here,” he shouted.
He caught the first beam that gave way, barely keeping it from knocking the shop owner to the ground. The lights flickered and died, leaving him in near darkness. When the last man was out, the brittle beams surrendered and the ceiling came crashing down on him.
For a moment there was only darkness.
Then a terrible screeching sound tore through his skull. He clapped his hands to his ears, breathing through the pain and fought to get his hearing back under control.
“An Gleis 10 erhält Einfahrt die S19 nach Au an der Sieg über Köln/ Bonn Flughafen,” a metallic voice declared.
The screeching died down and Charly blinked his eyes open. A giant double deck train passed him by. He stumbled back and the ground underneath him suddenly vanished. Before he knew what was happening, he was falling, flailing his arms, caught himself mid-air and floated back up, landing next to an – ear?
Charly did a double take. This couldn't be happening! One moment he'd be right in the middle of an earthquake…
“Der ICE nach Hamburg - Altona fährt heute abweichend von Gleis 1.”“What…”
The shoulder he sat on, shrugged. “They say that the train to Hamburg arrives on another platform. Happens every day.”
Shoulder and voice belonged to a woman, dark brown hair, chocolate eyes and ivory skin. Charly fought to keep his balance.
“I know what they're saying,” he managed.
“Oh right!” the woman said, not seeming the least bit surprised about having a man stand on her shoulder who was just the size of an action figure, apparently.
“Clark Kent!” she beamed at him. “So nice to meet you.”
He gaped at her, dumbfounded. How could she know his name? He hadn't used it in a long time.
“I'm Luise.” The woman reached out with her pinky finger, offering it to Clark in lieu of a handshake. “Do you really speak every language?”
Clark could only nod, too bewildered to find words.
“Auch Deutsch?” The smile blossoming on her lips was perhaps the most beautiful he'd ever seen. His heart skipped a beat and he felt a strange flutter in his belly.
Irritated with himself for having an almost visceral reaction to her presence, he muttered, “Ja, auch Deutsch. Wie bin ich überhaupt hierher gekommen?”
“Mir war langweilig,” the woman said.
As if boredom was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his waking up on a train station in Germany, small enough to fit on a shoulder.
He had to be dreaming, he decided.
Seeming completely unfazed by the weirdness of it all, the woman dog-eared a sketchbook in her hand, closed it and stuffed it back into her bag. Then she plucked Clark from her shoulder, put him on her outstretched hand and examined him closely.
“Mist,” she muttered. “I don't think the cape is quite right.”
Clark stared back at her. Either this was the weirdest dream ever or some of the debris must have hit him hard. What cape? He looked down at himself, finding that instead of his regular clothes, he was indeed wearing a cape - a red one over blue spandex. Like the one of the famous comic book hero who happened to have both his powers and his name.
His head spun. How on Earth? He had to wake up and see if someone needed his help before he'd inevitably move on. Clark shook his head to get rid of this strange hallucination.
This wasn't happening, he told himself. It was a nightmare, starring the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but it was a nightmare no less.
“Auf Gleis 10 erhält Einfahrt die S6 nach Essen Hauptbahnhof,” the metallic voice announced.
Luise’s smile faltered. “I guess that's my cue. Gotta catch that train.”
A few moments later, another red train, single deck this time, arrived at the platform. The doors beeped before opening, passengers got off, new passengers aligned on both sides waiting to get in.
Luise hesitated.
She craned her neck, looking at him. “Have you ever been to Cologne, Clark? I could show you around!”
Before he could say anything, before he could even make up his mind, she forced her way through the people crowding the platform, down a flight of stairs and into the belly of the station. For some reason he couldn't fathom, he had to follow her. As if she had a gravitational field of her own which he couldn't escape.
A steady stream of people moved through the lower floor. As soon as Luise left the stairs, she became a part of the crowd, letting herself follow the current, past shops that seemed to sell everything from clothes to books, flowers and food.
The offerings were as eclectic as the smells. The strong stench of urine and old tobacco was quickly replaced by the scent of baked goods and perfumes.
The wave of people seemed to disperse in the main hall and within a moments they stood on a plaza. To their left, a monumental gothic cathedral stretched into the air as far as the eye could see. Age and dirt had painted the stone walls in dark gray. Scattered in between were white islands of freshly renewed parts. Pointed arches surrounded the windows, some of them adorned with floral patterns, others showing figurines of saints and angels.
Luise headed straight for the broad flight of stairs leading up to the majestic church. Once she'd climbed it, she turned right and went around the building to the front. It was even more impressive. Two towers flanked the entrance.
Clark blinked, not sure what to think. For a nightmare, this was strangely elaborate. He'd thought he would wake up at some point, but he was still standing on the woman's shoulder.
He tapped her ear. “Much as I appreciate you showing me around, Luise. How did I get here?”
She ignored him. “It's even more impressive inside.”
With quick strides she walked into the cathedral. Dim light filtered through the colorful windows, the faint scent of olibanum lingered in the air. The sounds of the city had faded, leaving only the sacred quiet of the church. They followed the aisle on the right side until they reached a window made up of countless, colorful squares.
“That's Richter’s window,” she whispered,
She let him look for a moment, then continued past artful black grilles around the back of the sanctuary. A golden chest sat on a gallery, its form resembling a church. Two rows of figurines adorned the sides.
“The Shrine of the Three Kings,” Luise said.
Clark sighed. Under different circumstances he might have enjoyed the tour. He'd never been to Cologne, but…
“Luise, there are people waiting for me. There was an earthquake, a bad one.” He closed his eyes.
If this was a dream, maybe he'd imagined them too. Maybe they were beyond help anyway. While it was dark, he might manage to pull people out of the rubble without getting caught. Just getting the people out of the shop had almost been too close a call.
He pinched himself hard, but when he opened his eyes again, he was still in the cathedral. Clark wiped his face. Whatever had happened to him, he wasn't dreaming.
Luise turned so suddenly that he fell from her shoulder and remained floating in mid-air a few inches from her face. Now aware of his open display of powers, he fidgeted. But nobody seemed to notice him.
Just the woman whose brilliant smile slowly turned into a frown. She studied him curiously. “You're not like the others, are you?”
Clark didn't dare to wonder what others she was talking about. “Do you know how I got here?” he asked. “Or how I can get back?”
She heaved a long sigh, then gestured for him to follow her. Heart beating in his throat, almost waiting for someone to expose him, he followed her closely. But nobody said a thing. They seemed to look through him, almost as if he were a ghost.
Which he wasn't.
He was invulnerable.
Whatever had happened in Oregon hadn't changed that, or had it?
When they stepped back into the sunlight, she ushered him toward a square fountain. She sat down on the edge and Clark landed next to her.
“You're just a figment of my imagination,” she said, loud enough that passers-by turned their heads.
A blush crept on Luise's cheeks. But other than that, nothing happened.
“You're a figment of my imagination,” she repeated, more decisive this time.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Clark asked.
Luise stared back at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Usually this works.”
“What works?”
“Usually my imaginary friends vanish as soon as I say that.”
“Imaginary friends?” Clark deadpanned. “That's what you think I am?”
“Of course you are. You're a comic book character and I drew a picture of you. Sometimes they come to life.” She pulled out her sketchbook and opened the dog-eared page. “See?”
Clark stared at the picture of himself holding a ceiling, to keep it from crashing down. People were running past him. Other than the cape, which he certainly hadn't been wearing, the scene bore a striking resemblance to what had happened in Oregon.
He gasped. “So you're saying I'm not real?”
“Of course not. Nobody can see you but me.”
Dazed, he looked at the pencil drawing in her hands. It wasn't true. He had a life, even if it wasn't much, even if he was constantly on the run. He had parents, a past, for Heaven's sake, he'd even gone to the trouble of changing his name. How could he not be real?
“I guess, I could try and tear the picture to shreds. That would probably make you vanish. But I'd appreciate it if you'd stay a while longer.”
"Why?"
Her face clouded over. “I don't want to go home just yet.”
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