Waves
Chapter 3 The Green Hat Villain

I’m not sure how long I had been just sitting there, in the sand, staring at the ocean, probably fifteen minutes or so. I didn’t know what I expected to gain from sitting and staring, but I had no other plan. I thought about climbing back up the cliff to ask Finnegan what to do but that seemed a lot like admitting failure. Besides, the kooky old oracle was probably gone too. I also wrestled with forgetting the whole thing, after all, I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose to be brought here. What is this my business anyway? But I didn’t stay long on those questions. Something was absorbed in me while carrying that three ball. This task was part of me now, whatever it was. I was committed. I screwed up, it was now time to man up.

I got up and started walking among the naked men, surfers and beach goers. Even though this beach was swimsuit optional, as Chrysta once explained, it looked like half of the people here were clothed. I walked around, looking at everyone’s face, looking in their eyes, trying to replace someone who looked guilty. I wasn’t looking away this time. I found some inquisitive expressions but none that gave me any lead, none anyway until I saw Mindy.

I’m guessing that was her name. She had an embroidered beach bag with Mindy stitched on the side, amidst flowers and a cartoonish sun. She had short, red hair that looked dyed. She was a little thick, and pretty old, probably close to forty. She was wearing a one piece, black bathing suit and was sitting on her towel, obviously trying to avoid making eye contact with me. Something was up with Mindy. She saw me and didn’t see me, it was way too obvious. If a strange man walks up and looks right at you and you don’t look back or even notice, something’s not right.

“What do you know?” I asked her directly.

“Pardon me? What do I what?” as she stumbled through her words.

“You know something Mindy, what is it?”

“How did you know my… oh,” as she looked over at her beach bag.

“I see things, you see things. Come on, it’s important,” I said directly.

“You punks really think you own the world. Yea I saw some guy take something from your stuff. It was nothing, just a red ball. Why the big deal? Go buy another one.”

“What did he look like?” I asked desperately.

“How should I know? You got what you deserved anyway. I saw the despicable way you were carrying on with those floozies. It’s disgusting, girls running around like that.”

“Please,” I settled down, my voice softer and slower, “I really need to know. Anything that you can remember would really help.”

“Well, all I can remember was that he was wearing a bright, lime green baseball cap. He took the little red ball and walked off that way,” Mindy pointed south.

“Was there some emblem on the cap perhaps?” I asked.

“An emblem? Please,” she said through her irritation.

“How about the girls? Did you see which way they went?”

“Aren’t they with you?” she answered. “If you lost them, that’s your problem. I hope they never come back.”

“Why do you come to this beach? There are others, aren’t there?” I asked.

In my chatting with Chrysta and Hannah, I had come to realize that this swimsuit optional beach was an anomaly, that there were plenty of beaches to visit around town without this offensive nudity. So why would Mindy pick this one? Well I got her answer without her saying a word. She turned red as a tomato at my question. She knew why she was here and so did I.

“Thank you Mindy,” as I ran off.

I’m not sure why I asked about an emblem. It just seemed like the thing to do, but no time to concern myself with that. I ran, pretty fast, for me. I’ve never been athletic. I have always been more comfortable in my room, playing video games than chasing after a ball or trying to win a race that I couldn’t possibly win if my life depended on it. But here I was, of all things, doing both, and with soggy underwear to boot.

I got tired pretty quickly. The misconception about me was, because I was thin, I was in shape. I wasn’t. And my hunger didn’t help anything either. My strength was low. I did replace that running on the harder ground, nearer to the water was a lot easier than the soft sand. I kept running and running, the ocean to my right and the cliff wall to my left. It didn’t take too long to be alone. This part of the beach was deserted. I wanted to stop, I was sucking air like a vacuum cleaner. My lungs felt like they were going to explode. My leg muscles burned, but I kept going. I had to replace the man in the green hat. That wasn’t much to go on but that was all I had. Mindy said that she saw him walk away, south. Perhaps with me running, I could catch him. Fortunately for me, there was no place for him to turn. Unless he was a mountain goat, or a dolphin, the only path he could have taken was straight on this stretch of beach.

I finally collapsed in fatigue, down on my knees, breathing harder than I ever had. But I staggered to my feet and started walking, just long enough to catch my breath. Then it was off to full running again. I ran and ran. Other than the occasional mansion high and to the left on the cliff edge, I could have been in the middle ages, or earlier. This stretch of beach probably looked just like this before Columbus. There was no one here, no umbrellas, no surfers, no one at all. I was all alone. I didn’t know what lay ahead, I just kept running.

I finally came to a building, and stopped, still gulping oxygen. It looked incredibly out of place in this deserted beach. It was a large round disk, as big as a house, with windows all around. It was raised and supported by a cement pedestal. It was shaped like a huge cake pan, or perhaps a flying saucer. Around the base was a cement wall with an iron gate, clearly to keep people out. Then I noticed something else. There was a track, an almost completely vertical track connecting this spaceship house to another building at the top of the cliff. It seemed like some sort of sentry or meeting place.

My running paid off. Right when I got there and was still gathering myself, the iron gate closed and I saw through the railing a momentary glimpse of something bright green. It could have been a hat, maybe a shirt, I didn’t know. Mindy clearly didn’t like me and could have been lying about the green hat, just to throw me off. Or maybe she was in on the caper, but I didn’t think so. This glimpse of green was all I had to go on, but what to do next?

I went over to the gate and tried to open it, it was locked of course. I thought back to gym class when we had an obstacle course to conquer. Well it conquered me, I couldn’t climb over anything. Was that going to stop me now? I had to do it. I pulled and tugged and ungracefully scaled that gate and clumsily fell inside the cement wall. I found a door in the pedestal but it was also locked. There was no gate to climb this time.

Then off to my left, a little cart started moving up the track, with the green hatted man inside. I don’t think he saw me. I had to get to him, I had to retrieve what was rightfully mine and continue this unfolding and mysterious job. Why was I so obsessed with it? I don’t know but I couldn’t stop. There were no stairs on this cliff, just the track. And there wasn’t another cart. So I jumped on the track and started climbing it, like a ladder. What was I becoming? Someone I didn’t recognize, that was for sure. Higher and higher I climbed, and scarier and scarier the potential fall.

When I got to the halfway point in my climb, my nemesis must have finally noticed me as he put his cart in reverse, certainly for the sole purpose of knocking me off of the track. Here he came toward me. I started climbing down as fast as I could but he was gaining on me. So I continued my downward climb but he was even closer. It was clear I wasn’t going to make it to the bottom in time, and I was still too high to survive a fall. I was doomed it seemed.

Just as the cart was about to hit me, and knock me to my death, I pushed off with my feet, jumped up and away from the track and grabbed the cart, hanging on for dear life, dangling below the cart as it continued to descend. The green hatted villain was probably fine with my predicament because in just a few more seconds I was going to be smashed between the bottom of this weird trolley thing and the ground. Maybe it was my catlike reflexes from my gaming but more likely impetuous survival maneuvers, but I jumped off the cart, backwards onto the cement slab.

Darkness, spinning, floating.

I blinked my eyes, where am I? I closed them again. I opened my eyes more coherently this time. I was in a room, I don’t remember getting here. I must have blacked out. Ouch, I just realized that the back of my head really hurt. Now I knew where I was. I was in that spaceship looking building. I could tell by the rounded shape and the windows circulating the room. I was sitting on a chair, my hands were behind me, handcuffed together. The man with the green hat was sitting at a desk, looking the other way. There was no sign of the red three ball.

I realized that I may have been chasing the wrong rabbit. Even though he was wearing a green hat, he may have nothing to do with the three ball, my holy grail. Maybe this was his house and I was an intruder and that was why he had me locked up. Perhaps he was waiting for the police. Finally he turned toward me and was surprised to see me awake.

“Oh, you woke up,” he said, with a slight attitude to his delivery.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You hit your head,” he responded with no sympathy.

“How long was I out?”

“Oh, ten minutes or so, maybe fifteen. Long enough for me to drag you up here and lock you up. Good thing I had those handcuffs.”

He looked mid forties, pretty good shape and well dressed. The hat looked out of place with the rest of his attire so I’m guessing he wore that hat because he was bald. My dad has some friends that are bald hat guys. Man, my head really hurt, and I felt a slight running of something liquid on the back of my neck, blood I suspect.

“Do you know what’s going on?” he asked me.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I responded.

He walked over to one of the windows that faced the water and looked out, admiring his view.

“Do you like looking at the ocean?” he asked me, while still facing outward.

“Well, yes,” I answered. I didn’t know where this was going.

“Most people do,” he added, “me, I could take it or leave it. I don’t see any beauty in it at all. It’s just water. Think about it. If it truly was as beautiful as people claim, then why don’t they appreciate the beauty when they pour them self a glass of water? You never hear of anyone marveling at their glass of water before they drink it.”

He turned to me.

“Do you?” he added.

“No, I guess not.”

“You see,” he continued, “This house is one in a million, right here on the beach. It cost a lot of money, largely because it overlooks water. Water. Who cares? But I love this house, not because of the fabulous views, not because there are two parts to it, connected by a cool track, no, I love it because it represents wealth, it represents power. You get where I’m going with this?”

He turned around and opened a drawer from a cabinet and took out the three ball. It was peculiar seeing it, almost like seeing an old friend. It was like that thing was strangely part of me now.

“What do you know about this?” he said while he placed it on a table in front of me.

I didn’t answer.

“What lies did that ridiculous Finnegan tell you about this thing?”

“It’s a task,” I answered.

“A task,” he said in his most demeaning voice. “And why did you take this task?”

“I was lost and hungry.”

“Well, you’re still lost and hungry aren’t you? And you’re locked up. This thing isn’t much good to you then. Did he tell you about symploncy?”

I just gave him an inquisitive expression as if I didn’t know what he was talking about, which I didn’t.

“I guess not,” he said. “I’m going to take off your handcuffs in a moment. I want you to hold this ball in your hand, either hand will do, or both if you want.”

He reached into his drawer again. I thought he was getting the key. No, he was getting a gun and he pointed it at me. I have seen guns pointed at people in movies and TV shows my whole life, but it’s quite a different thing when a real gun is pointed at you. I was scared and it showed.

“You know, I’m actually glad you came. When I paid that girl to distract you, I never thought I would see you again. But here you are, for a final symploncy.”

With the gun still carefully pointed at me, he walked around the chair, unlocked and removed my handcuffs. It felt good to have my hands free again. Then he walked in front of me. He gave the three ball a little push toward me. It slowly rolled, I reached out and grabbed it with my right hand. Suddenly that life-form sense about it amplified. There was an energy that seemed to pour from it to me and back again. I loved it and was afraid of it, all at once. His eyes lit up, during this energy exchange. He could see it, he could sense it and it was clearly what he had hoped would happen.

“You just saw a demo of symploncy. How did you like it?” he asked, without really expecting an answer. “This object was yours, as I’m sure Finnegan told you. That much was true, but it doesn’t keep us from using it,” he spoke with excitement.

Us? I thought. Who is us?

“Oh, perhaps we can’t use it like you could, but on the other hand, our experience has taught us to use it as it should be used, not like that idiot Finnegan wanted you to use it,” he said.

I was confused at first. Finnegan did seem like an oddball. But this guy here tried to kill me on the track. And he just spoke of the ownership of this ball in the past tense, as if I am done here, maybe done for good. And I didn’t like him saying ‘final’ symploncy either. It was clear that this green hat guy, this nameless villain was exactly that. It was time for me to act.

“I’m done with this stupid thing,” I lied to him. “It’s caused me nothing but trouble.”

I pushed the ball away from myself, rolling it on the table but not directly toward him, I rolled it sideways. His eyes were big as basketballs as he leaned in to take this thing that he coveted. This was all part of my plan. I can’t believe that I had a plan but I did. Since his right hand was occupied with his gun, he dropped the handcuffs and keys from his left hand, onto the table. As he leaned in and across me reaching for the rolling ball, as my heart was beating out of my chest, I sprang up and grabbed the gun from him. It was easier than I thought it would be. He was too transfixed on that ball. Apparently this symploncy that he talked about made the ball even more valuable, so much so that he lost his focus and I took advantage. Anyone who’s played Skyrim knows you don’t lose your focus. I just ripped the gun right out of his hand. I think his low opinion of me made this eventuality impossible in his arrogant mind, so he didn’t protect himself from it.

I was holding the gun now, and scared out of my mind. Oh I’ve blown away plenty of zombies but this was different. This was a real, breathing, heart beating human being, and he was angry.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled at me.

“Shut up and put your hands up!” I yelled back, shocking myself, “and drop the ball back on the table.”

I wasn’t sure what I would do if he tried to take the gun from me. I think I would have choked. Fortunately he didn’t call my bluff, not physically anyway.

“You little weasel, give me that gun, you can’t shoot anyone and you know it. Do you know who I am? I am ten times the person you are. You little dog! You don’t even exist.”

He looked down at the gun, perhaps ready to reach out and take it from me. Perhaps he sensed my reluctance to actually shoot him, so I had to be proactive. My dad always told me to be proactive in life but I seldom listened, now was the time though.

“I’ve gone hunting with my dad plenty of times,” I lied, “and shot lots of animals nicer than you.”

I know that was a pretty lame insult but it’s all I could come up with at the moment.

“Put the ball down and turn around,” I said sternly, so to not give away my insane fright.

He ever so reluctantly returned the three ball to the table, stared at it longingly, then turned, madder than a dragon.

“You will pay for this, trust me, you will suffer!” he said while facing the other way.

I looked around, trying to replace something to lock him to. There was a post which was part of his cabinet. It looked sturdy enough.

“Move over there, in front of the cabinet,” I continued, “put your left hand out a little and your right hand high in the sky.”

He did it but by his posture he was ridiculous with anger and disgust at this whole situation. If vibes could kill, I would be dead. I picked up the handcuffs and quickly connected one side to his left hand and the other to the cabinet. I put the keys in my pocket. His right hand was free, plus I’m sure he could drag this cabinet to get to his phone, so my time was limited.

I quickly ran down the spiral stairway inside the pedestal. What an idiot, I forgot the ball. I ran back up, he was already trying to drag the cabinet, but not toward his phone, toward the ball that had rolled onto the floor. I picked it up and again ran down the stairs, this time out the door.

The iron gate was locked from the inside too. I needed both hands to climb. I dropped the gun then tossed the red ball over the wall and onto the sand. I climbed the gate easier this time. You think that maybe I was becoming athletic? Coach Robinson would be proud. Outside the wall I picked up my red three ball, after all, even the green hat monster said it was mine. And off I ran, to the south. Where? I had no idea.