Mom, I'm Bulletproof

Chapter 6: Murder in London, part 7

Sam woke up in his flat, after an uncomfortable dream about snakes crawling all over him. He put his hand against his forehead, but instead of a hand, a warm mass of skin and muscle slapped against his face.

Sam opened his eye and sat up in bed. Not unlike in his dream, his arms were now long tentacles, slowly slithering like a pair of boa constrictors, except that the skin was the same color and consistency of his own skin.

The tentacles didn't end with hands. Instead they came to a simple point of skin at the tip, without as much as a fingernail.

Sam swung his legs around and stood up. His new arms dangled and spread out on the floor around him. He estimated they were now twice as long as his body. Because they moved like snakes, Sam assumed they now had snake-like skeletons. He could feel nothing like an elbow or a wrist.

He instinctively reached out for the phone and his new arm lashed out at the dresser, shattering corner of it into pieces. As the arm smashed down on it, Sam barely felt the impact.

He kneeled down and looked at his arm. Just as he thought of it, the arm lifted to show him where it had hit the dresser, just as easily as someone checking his wristwatch. There wasn't a scratch on it.

Feeling more in control, Sam lifted one arm into the air, and then the other, careful not to accidentally destroy any more furniture.

His panic subsiding, Sam considered a hospital. He wondered what an emergency room doctor could possibly do about this.

He sat down again. His left foot had an itch. Without having to think it, his left arm rubbed against his foot, as if to scratch it.

Sam decided to give himself one day to see if the Ergosphere was right. If his arms were still tentacles by morning, he'd go to the hospital. If his arms went back to normal overnight, he'd go with the hypothesis that the Ergosphere's story about a "dreamsmith" was more than just a story. Until then, that meant an entire day of sitting around his flat with his new arms.

His right arm curled around the TV remote control, and the tip of his left arm pressed the "on" button.

After an hour or so of only half-watching the TV, but more watching his arms, Sam discovered the arms could be sticky. If he needed to pick something up, he found, by accident, that he could do it by pressing the skin of his arm against it – in this case, the doorknob to his bathroom door – the arm could became temporarily adhesive. It stuck to the knob, making it easier to open.

This also made it easier for Sam to microwave some food in his small kitchenette. He was almost getting used to the new arms. He didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * * *

"We interrupt our scheduled programming for this announcement," the TV said. Even with the novelty of his new arms, by 6:30 p.m., Sam was bored. The news break perked him up.

"There has been an explosion at the British Museum," the newscaster said, "much like the one weeks before at the Coliseum."

Sam sat up.

The TV showed the massive museum, with one corner of the building flowing with flame and black smoke, just as the Coliseum had been.

The news cut to a helicopter shot from above the museum structure. The glass ceiling over the building's famous grand court was still intact, as were the elaborate sculptures and pillars. The fire and smoke came from one of the rear building's corners.

"Wait," the announcer said. "There's, yes, there's a man on the roof of the building."

The shot in question was zoomed to the point of near distortion and lasted for only a few seconds. It indeed showed a man running toward the plume of smoke, which then obscured him. The TV reporters speculated that this might be either a firefighter or misplaced security guard.

Sam knew better. He recognized the robes and hood – the man in theblurry image was the man with the whip from the Coliseum.

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Next: Confrontation.