Coma Duo

By Buck Sawyer

Coma Duo is the story of two women friends with some psychic ability, who discover that together they are able to put troublesome characters into a coma. Drawn by the potential to apply this ability to diminish some of the hardship in the modern world, they head to South America to test their power on a nasty dictator. There they also meet a local shaman who provides counsel and support for their project, helping them to connect with the underlying spiritual energies of the region. Coma Duo is a positive and light-hearted tale offering a vision of a magical and peaceful approach to making the world a happier place.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Buck Sawyer
• Release date: Sep 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310703027

Buck Sawyer

I live with my wife Marsea on the Maine coast, near the magical town of Belfast. [e-mail]

Book preview

COMA DUO

by

H. BUCK SAWYER

Copyright © 2019 by

H. Buck Sawyer

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Prolog

Coma Duo

About the Author

PROLOG

Most of us wonder how life on earth can possibly survive the current entrenched power of greed and the seemingly inevitable destruction of human society and much of the biosphere. Armageddon is upon us, and the spark of faith in every hopeful heart prays for the miraculous rescue needed to save us and our children. Though numerous citizens are creating a variety of admirable tactics to promote our survival, the present outlook is dark. Christians embrace the concept that divine help is on the way. Sci-fi fans may hope that the galactic federation will intervene.

I believe that new modes of human consciousness will generate novel powers which may be the key to a happy ending. The culture which blossomed in the 1960’s included a marvelous variety of models of expanded awareness. Among the modern physics establishment we now find acceptance of the tenet that consciousness does indeed influence matter. Whether the expression of that principle in the realm of social order will occur first as a function of exceptional individuals or in the form of interpersonal linkage of consciousness we will hopefully soon witness.

One of my favorite hypotheses is that a global brain is coming into existence, with the web of modern telecommunications constituting the planetary counterpart to the neurological web which is the mechanism of individual consciousness. It is interesting to speculate how such a global brain, once born, might activate a commensurate immune system to attack the cancerous individuals who are now afflicting the health and well being of the planet with their propensity for greed and abuse of natural order. My story, Coma Duo, is one vision of how that corrective cleansing might begin in a relatively gentle yet effective manner. The tone is positive and bright. I hope you will enjoy it.

COMA DUO

In her small massage studio Wendy Bailey held her extended hands above her client’s relaxed body to seal the healing energy field she’d created around him during the massage session. She then slipped out of the room, closing the door gently after nudging up the volume on the ocean wave sound generator mounted on the studio wall. In the adjacent tiny office she dropped into her seat like a bird landing on a branch. A large asparagus fern filled the air space over the desk, sprigs jumping out of the pot like Tina Turner’s hair and creating a one plant jungle which seemed to be coaxing the light green floral wallpaper to come to life.

The small desktop was as spare as a zendo- just the calendar book with her client schedule, one notepad and a phone. After years of losing the battle for orderliness, Wendy had established an armistice by installing enough cupboard space to keep all the flotsam out of sight- sort of a modified Shaker style decor which offered the appearance of order to the eye while hiding within a sinful mess of bills, brochures for dozens of holistic havens, massage vibrators, air ionizers, a collection of ginseng products, incense, and the like.

She hit the speed dial button for her mother on the desk phone while lifting the handset which had been custom made for her as barter by one of her more artistic clients. The phone’s mouthpiece was shaped like an ear and its earpiece was shaped like a set of lips whispering a secret. Wendy’s mother, Janet, was starting to cook dinner and answered the phone in her kitchen with the foresight to first pick up her wineglass. Hello.

Hi, Mom. It’s me.

Oh, hi, honey. You working?

Just finished for now. How’s the crone world?

All right, I guess, answered her mother. I’m trying to channel the wisdom of my decades into a good fish chowder.

Wendy heard her father, Jed, in the background holler, Janet, is there some reason you can’t remember that I want only chunky peanut butter? Jed was standing at the pantry cupboard in hopes of making a sandwich. He was holding up an unopened jar of peanut butter, very displeased with it. So few pleasures left in life. And chunky peanut butter chief among them. Do I have to take over the shopping just to get the kind of peanut butter I need?

Janet had a ready defense. They were out of chunky, Jed. It was smooth or nothing.

No, they’re not out of chunky. You just didn’t see it. You need to visit the eye doctor before you go completely blind. He started reviewing the contents of the cupboards looking for more peanut butter while Janet turned her attention back to the phone.

Wendy, honey. Could you try to find your father some chunky peanut butter on your way over here? You’re still coming, aren’t you?

Yes, Beth and I are coming at five thirty. Will he eat organic peanut butter if it’s chunky? I’m miffed that I have to pander to his petty crap, but I’d feel better if it were something natural instead of his usual heart clogger.

Well, he’s pretty set on brand loyalty.

Jed interjected loudly Get Skippy. I’m not eating anything with hippy co-op mouse shit in it.

Would you mind dear? asked Janet.

Yes, I do mind. But I’ll get it so you don’t have to listen to his stupid whining. I don’t know how you tolerate it. It’s totally unnecessary to live like that, Mom.

Thank you dear. It’s OK.

Not by me. Do you need anything else?

Oh, no. All set. Thanks.

OK. See you in a little bit.

All right, dear. Bye.

Wendy hung up the ear and lips phone and started looking in her cupboards to find a watering cup for the fern. She pulled out a mason jar and removed the bouquet of incense sticks in it, putting them back onto the cabinet shelf since there wasn’t a handy alternate container. She waved the empty jar toward the fern. I’m sorry you’re thirsty. Just listen to the waves. Think water. I’ll get you a big drink in a few minutes.

She hit another speed dial button. Her friend Beth answered with a peppy, Beth Walton. Sitting in her cubicle at the Morning Herald office, she looked calm in contrast to the revved up newsbugs in the colony around her. She was dressed with panache and wore gold rim glasses that gave her pretty brown face an academic touch.

Hey. It’s Wendy

Hi. How’s the flesh?

Right now this flesh is hungry. How’s the spirit?

Restless. Like I should be getting ready for something, but I can’t identify it.

Well, how’s the rainmaking?

Bert took the pitch for a feature on the dowsing convention in Vermont.

Nothing like a drought to whip up interest in water.

Want to go along for a few days? Free room. Exotic people. Beth picked up a small wooden forked dowsing stick from her desk and began making small circles and loops in the air with it.

Maybe. I had a dowser once, but he kept wanting to move the bed around the room to find the right energy spot. You know, too much of that foofie stuff can blow you right off the beam.

I’m aware of that risk. Yes, I am. Are we still on for dinner with your parents?

Yeah. Can I pick you up at five?

Sure. See you then. Bye. Beth hung up, carefully placed the dowsing rod beside the keyboard, and returned to typing a piece about the music program at the state prison.

An hour later Wendy and Beth, en route to the Bailey house, were in a supermarket to get a bottle of wine and the peanut butter. A decent looking young fellow was pondering the extensive selection of peanut butters. Beth stopped a few feet away, but Wendy cruised right up to the guy and deftly created an aikido like gesture to point at one jar while snaring the lad’s full attention at close range. Ever tried this kind? She covertly took a few sniffing breaths of the air around him.

Lacking the whit for a constructive response, the lad managed, Geez, I don’t think so.

Wendy gave him another chance to reveal some character. I need a jar for my dad. I thought you might have a recommendation if you’re a big PB fan.

Gee, they’re all the same stuff. I was looking for the one with the jelly in it.

Oh, that’s handy. But he doesn’t like jelly, though. I’ll just try this one. Thanks. She plucked a jar of Skippy chunky style and turned to collect Beth and head for the wine aisle.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the lad, Beth vented her grievance. Maybe you’re just controlled by a strong maternal drive- a mating instinct that you consider to have some organic sanctity that supersedes social propriety.

What do you mean? I didn’t touch him.

You sniffed him. That’s really crude.

You know, there’s a difference between crude and raw. Crude is man made. Raw is natural. And my nose often tells me what is and what is not raw and natural.

What’s wrong with just reading the vibes from a polite distance?

"That faculty