I hear Master Mind’s jetpack get close.
“Your grandma’s coming,” I tell Joy.
Joy is sitting down opposite me in the tunnel, outside Sandra’s dream. I am also sitting down, leaning back, feeling weak, feeling the pain of my bullet wound in my shoulder.
“Where is he? Where is he?” I hear Suzy’s voice echo in the tunnel.
Suddenly she stands in front of me. “Oh, my god. Oh my god!” She leans closer to look at the makeshift tourniquet around my shoulder and screams right into my ears: “Oh my god! What did you do?!”
“He got shot, Grandma,” Joy says simply.
“Got shot, huh?!” She clearly knew I was shot before she came here. Master Mind must have told her. “You almost died! Is that what you’re doing hanging around with Justin, going from dream to dream, getting shot?”
She thinks for a second. I don’t answer. I know her too well. I know what’s going through her mind. “I could have lost you! You could have died! Where’s the goddamn Walt who works all day in the lab and comes home to watch TV? Where is he? Are you an adventurer now?”
I shake my head but I don’t answer.
Suzy turns her head to Joy. “And you! You were kidnapped by someone who enslaves children! You could have died! You could have been beaten and tortured!”
“I was,” Joy says, looking down.
“What?!” Suzy stops in place. Her voice calms down and becomes warm, “That’s appalling, Joy!” Her voice rises to anger again. “Tell me about that later! Now I’m pissed of that all you two do - what all of you do - is go into danger every! Single! Day! Are you insane?! Do you have a death wish?” She turns her back to us. “Master Mind, take me back home. I can’t deal with them.”
Master Mind is confused. “You want me to take you home? Do you not want to be with--”
“Take me home!”
“I will take you home, Pirate Mother.”
“Oh, come on, Suzy. Stay.” I say.
Suzy whirls around and says angrily, “We’re staying, Master Mind!”
She stands next to me and says, “You look like you’re at death’s door!”
“I know you’re angry,” I say. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“How do you feel?” She still uses her angry voice.
“Woozy. Weak. In pain,” I say. “Please sit. Hold my hand.”
She sits next to me, holds my hand, and caresses. But she doesn’t look at me.
That’s enough for me. I feel my eyes roll towards the top of my head and I fall asleep.
(To be continued…)
—Told by Grampa Walt