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                                        Andrew Roller Presents
 
                                              JUPITER RISING

                                            Chapter Thirteen

         When I stepped out of the shower the 14-year-old girl was waiting 
for me.  She had a white towel.  She held it out like a robe for me to wear.  
I dried myself with it and then, turning, I saw myself in a cracked mirror 
over the bathroom sink.
         My God!  I looked like a white-robed rock star!  My hair, previously 
cut short, had grown long and lanky.  It trailed over my shoulders and 
halfway down my back.  My physique, partly hidden by the towel, was a 
sight to behold.  Chicks would drool over me now!  My shoulders were broad 
and powerful, my neck thick as an oxÕs yet with an aristocratic mien to it, 
matching my royal-looking face.  All my features were fine-sculpted and 
symmetrical now, from my powerfully thrusting jaw to my square nose 
and my stern-looking forehead.  Yet I had the gentleness of good breeding 
in my eyes.  I could be ruthless if required but I could also be just and 
upright, I thought, gazing at myself.  I turned and took off the towel, 
reluctantly.  A robe seemed to suit me well, I thought, but of course I 
couldnÕt rescue Lisa wearing a bath towel!
         ÒThank you, Persephone,Ó I said to the young girl, and wondered again 
how I knew her name, and why it was such a long and complicated name.
         ÒPluto has something for you to wear,Ó the girl said in a soft 
submissive voice.  She bowed her head as she spoke, as if I was too great 
for her to look at directly.  (Though, indeed, sheÕd peeked quite readily at 
me, I noticed, when I first stepped out of the shower and when I was 
admiring myself in the mirror!)  At her speaking, I frowned.
         ÒPluto?Ó I asked.  For a moment an image of Mickey MouseÕs dog 
flashed in my mind.  It was one thing to be growing more powerful by the 
minute without even making use of my 24 hour fitness membership.  But 
now was I to have audiences with Disney cartoons?  A memory of Lisa 
jolted me.  WeÕd had such fun at Disneyland!
         I rushed into the next room.  A low fire was the only heat in a 
spartan square space, about the size of an apartment living room.  Pluto 
was holding some clothes for me and had turned, with Hephaestus, to gaze 
further down the hall.  In the distance, at the end of the hall, next to a 
book case that had been shoved to one side, was a large crack.  I gazed 
past the two men toward the crack.  Even in the low light cast down the 
hall by the fire there was something remarkable about it.  It seemed to go 
on forever; an illusion, no doubt, owing to the poor lighting.
         ÒI swear I didnÕt know there was that big crack back there,Ó Pluto 
was saying to Hephaestus.
         ÒProbably the recent earthquake opened it up,Ó Hephaestus answered.
         ÒShit, I hope this whole place doesnÕt cave in on us while the cops 
are banging around upstairs,Ó Pluto said.  The men walked from the room 
into the hallway, approaching the crack.  I guessed theyÕd already 
examined it but they obviously wanted another look.  I had no chance of 
rescuing Lisa if we got turned into sardines.  Naked, I followed the two 
men.  Persephone stepped lightly after me.  As we approached the crack at 
the end of the hall I thought I saw someone on the other side of it.
         ÒOh, fuck!Ó I hissed, thinking somehow that a cop had gotten down 
into the cellar.  Pluto and Hephaestus drew back a little, bumping into me, 
as surprised as I was.  And the next second our little scare got a lot 
bigger:  it was the man Hephaestus had killed on the bus, the driver!  He 
looked at me, at Hephaestus, and at Pluto.  His eyes seemed to linger on 
Pluto for a moment and then returned to Hephaestus.
         ÒDown, shade!Ó Hephaestus suddenly barked.  He raised his cane and 
shook it at the man heÕd murdered.  The driver quivered; I realized then 
that he was more shadow than man.  No man could ripple like that, even 
with the greatest fear!  Hephaestus turned to Pluto.  ÒThis man is your 
affair now,Ó Hephaestus said to Pluto.
         ÒWhat- what am I supposed to do with him?Ó Pluto asked, 
incredulous.  Persephone, standing behind me, spoke up.  Her voice was 
confident, not submissive like before. 
         ÒWe must not judge him.  We must comfort him on his journey to 
oblivion,Ó Persephone said.  Pluto turned and looked at her.
         ÒI see youÕre the resident expert on this shit,Ó Pluto said.
         ÒYes,Ó Persephone said.  Her voice was soft and caring.  Lightly she 
stepped past me, brushing me aside with utmost tenderness, as one might 
move aside a cherished lover.  Then she slipped past Pluto and Hephaestus 
too.  Standing at the mouth of the crack, she spoke to the driver.  ÒGo 
down,Ó she said.  ÒThe world above is not for you.  The time has passed 
when you may live under the sun.  Go down and wait for your loved ones to 
join you.  All humanity goes where you must go, down into the depths.  You 
will not be alone for long.Ó
         The driver obeyed.  Flitting with the agility that only a shadow, 
detached from any man, could possess, it flickered and then receded 
deeper into the crack.  Owing to the already poor light it seemed to vanish.  
Perhaps it did vanish.  I stepped up to where Persephone was standing and 
looked through the broken wall.  There was nothing but blackness beyond, 
with just the faintest sort of illumination, not coming from the fire 
behind us, that was for sure.  In this spectral hole anything might have 
hidden.  I saw no bottom, no walls, a kind of endless abyss.  I shivered and 
stepped back.
         ÒI have some clothes for you,Ó Pluto said to me, bringing me back to 
a healthy sense of reality there in the dimly lit hall.  He handed me a pair 
of jeans.  I unfolded them.  One of the knees had been torn, for the sake of 
art or from use I wasnÕt sure.  The jeans had no belt.  The legs were ripped.  
It looked as if someoneÕs dog had eaten away the end of each of the pants 
legs.  ÒSorry.  Short notice,Ó Pluto mumbled.
         ÒTheyÕll do,Ó I said.  I pulled on the jeans.  ÒDo you have any shoes?Ó 
I asked Pluto.
         ÒWeÕve been making love down here for a few days.  We donÕt have 
much of anything at the moment,Ó Persephone said to me in an apologetic 
voice.  Pluto handed me a shirt.  It was little better than the pants; 
buttons allowed me to close it around my stomach, which was flat and 
hard now, not soft like before.  But for my powerful, sculpted chest, there 
was no covering, for the shirt had no buttons farther up.  The sleeves at 
least werenÕt ripped, like the pants legs were.  They were long and 
flowing, ending in large 1970Õs style cuffs.  Or perhaps they were more in 
the style of the late 1960Õs, IÕm not an expert on American culture.  As for 
the shirt collar, it was wide like the shirt cuffs, but somewhat torn.  The 
Òclothing dogÓ had been at work on the collar, I suppose.
         ÒIf I was black and had a guitar I could try to pass for Jimi Hendrix,Ó 
I told Pluto.
         ÒWe found them folded up in a corner,Ó Persephone said.  She smiled.  
ÒI was rather hoping weÕd find nothing and IÕd get to keep you naked.Ó
         ÒSorry,Ó I said, and grinned at her.  Did the girl have something for 
me?  I think she did!  And she was damn cute!  A slender girl, with newly-
grown tits, long legs, a waist narrow enough to breathe around both sides 
of.  If this had been a sex story, instead of real life, IÕll bet I would have 
been on the hallway floor with her the next minute, fucking her brains out.  
Alas, as Hephaestus handed me my gun, formerly the copÕs, I knew that 
despite my spectacular physical development I was still trapped in the 
real world.
         ÒYou need a shower or anything?Ó I asked Hephaestus.  He sniffed 
himself, his ragged homeless clothes.
         ÒNah, IÕm used to stinking,Ó he said in all honesty.

30

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