Chapter 2

I woke.

A new day had begun, birds were singing in the trees, the sun was shining through a gap in the curtains.

I became aware of other sounds, my niece and nephew were being readied for school, dressing, brushing teeth, eating breakfast, don’t ask me, I didn’t know their routines, and right then, my own routine didn’t seem that important. Chantelle came and looked at the three dolls lying side by side. She was about to reach out for me, when Lisa, my sister came and said, “time to go, sweetie.”

All was quiet in the house. I could still hear noise from the rest of the suburb, cars and busses on their way to the freeway or to the main road into the CBD. I wondered whether anyone at work would miss me. I suppose that someone might, but there were so many other people there, and so it would maybe only be people in my own section that even noticed.

Barbie stirred. Ken was still snuffling and grunting, I thought he might still be asleep.

The family were gone, there being no more noises from inside the house. I got out of bed, I remembered that we had gotten all the accessories for Barbie to go in this house, and if her car and bedside lamp worked, maybe other stuff might also work as well.

I walked into the kitchen, there was a coffee machine, there was a refrigerator, maybe if I was lucky ... I opened some of the cupboards, the mini-boxes, that had come from some or other promotion had looked like mini facsimiles of the real thing when I was ... a normal person! These boxes all looked normal, at least to me, now.

I pulled some cereal out, sugar, there was milk in the fridge, I found the coffee; I was lucky, very fortunate!

I had put on a pot of coffee and was eating some cereal while waiting. Barbie joined me, she said, “wow, how does this work?”

“Well, I’m going to guess, and say that it is working in the same way as we are here,” I took a sip of coffee, “ahhh ... perfect! I have been giving our situation some thought, and I believe that there is a possibility that you are also in a coma, like I am, I mean, why would you be here if you were dead, but in a coma makes sense.”

She replied, “oh, okay. But then...”

“But then, what?”

“Ummm ... well, then why don’t I remember that I am in a coma, why don’t I remember being in that body?”

“That’s one that we will have to investigate, but I am noticing one thing,” I said.

“What?”

I continued, “you have grown up.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

I said, “yesterday, when we first met, you told me you were about fourteen, and that had been in 2014, your body was that of an adolescent fourteen-year-old, and so was your mind.”

She asked, “and, so?”

“I’m guessing, you do have a pile of clothing to choose from, and so the fact that you’ve come to the kitchen dressed as you are, might have some meaning.”

She looked down at herself, and blushed, but made no effort to cover herself. “Ummm ... maybe ... maybe, yes, it is possible that I am looking for you to recognise me as a desirable woman.”

“Can you remember when your birthday was?” I sked her.

“No, no I can’t. but I remember that my name was Barbara, I actually am a Barbie,” she replied.

“Good, then, Barbara, I prefer that name ... you are now eighteen years old, give or take a few months,” I said to her, “and you have grown into that beautiful woman,” she preened, is that the right word, and then I continued, “your body is much more that of an older teenager, your boobs have grown somewhat, you have grown a thatch of hair between your legs,” I watched as she scratched yet again, it looked a little uncomfortable.

She looked at her nude body again, and admitted, “yes, I have grown hair, hair I’m not sure that I want, maybe if we have everything I need, I can shave!”

Just then Ken sauntered in, he was also scratching, he had a bit of a boner evident, and he blushed as he saw us, and then concentrated on staring at nude Barbara.

By his facial features, I judged him to still only be twelve, maybe thirteen, just into puberty, but whatever, he was still young.

Barbara hurried out of the kitchen, and came back dressed in a yellow sundress, “it feels a little icky!”

While Ken poured too much milk over his cereal, I took Barbara back to the bedroom, a lot of Ken’s clothing was unused but dusty, I put a fresh set of shorts on, and took my camo BDUs through to the washing machine, Barbara found that much of Barbie’s clothing was also unused and dusty. Once again, in the same way, the laundry was as well stocked as the kitchen.

While Barbara put the load on, I stripped and stood under the shower. I was towelling off as Barbara got in for her own shower. “Oh, that feels really good,” she said as she got out.

We went back to the kitchen, “KEN, come here!” I shouted.

He came back, and I looked at the mess that he had left, pointed at it to him, he shrugged. “I don’t care if you are still a little boy, if you make a mess, you clean up after yourself.”

Barbara told him, “bring your plate and mug, just wipe the table down,” as she started washing my dishes as well.

I looked at that tableau, thinking, ‘just need to do the pregnant part, and you’re where you belong.’ Seriously chauvinistic of me, but she really did fill out those shorts and blouse very nicely, indeed. If she had have looked around at my crotch just then!

We convinced Ken to shower as we threw his clothing into the machine.

I went and got all of my stuff, a combat helmet, goggles, pistol belt with holster; when I racked the slide on the pistol, it went back and then returned forward. I had noticed a round entering the chamber.

I looked, as I had noticed with the toy in real life, the design was a mish-mash of the genuine articles, and so although this GI Joe body that I was inhabiting was brand new, made recently, the kit was also supposed to resemble contemporary equipment as used in Afghanistan and Syria. The pistol looked to be a mix of 1911, Beretta M9, Glock19X, and SIG P320 (M17) components, all in desert tan.

The carbine was a mix of M4 and M16A2 with M203 grenade launcher, underneath the barrel; somehow still without all the other bits and bobs (the fore-grips, and red dot sights, and scopes, and lasers, and ... until I am certain that the thing would weigh double the normal weight), that have become all the rage among gun-nuts, airsoft addicts and allegedly also Special Forces around the world.

I ejected the magazine, Barbara said something about guns, I replied, “guns don’t kill people, people kill people; it is just a tool. Anyway, I do know what I am doing, and I think it might not be a bad idea to teach you as well.” Then I pulled back on the slide again, and caught the flying round, I pushed that back into the top of the magazine. I shoved the magazine back into the magazine-well of the pistol and holstered it.

I removed the magazine from the combat rifle, before checking the bolt. Everything worked the way I expected it to. “I’m going to check the toy box over there,” I told Barbara.

“Whatever for?”

“I can’t really say, but I feel that there may be more stuff there that can be of use to us.” I remembered that I had bought my nephew one of those trucks, an idealised shape or design, it has the larger, more capable off-road truck chassis with a smaller minivan body on top, although I couldn’t remember the scale, I wondered, ‘whether we would fit in it?’ I wanted to explore. I found myself to be quite glad that I was armed, when a rat ran out from under the table.

I thought back to my time in the service, I aimed and fired, the rat, ‘what the fuck... ? Rats in this house,’ I might have been more willing to accept mice, although even then, not really.

That single round had caused the rat to favour that hind leg, but it was now facing directly towards me, I put a shot in the centre of mass, through the chest, and as the carbine had lifted, I shot a second round into the head, that just grazed up the side of the snout, ricocheting off of the bone of the skull.

The chest round might have done something, but the rat still wasn’t slowing down, or not enough. As the rat had turned its head, due to the bullet impacting on the snout, I aimed at the centre of the ear, down low, and fired. I hoped that that would give me a brain shot, which it did.

The rat fell over, not moving. Barbara came out of hiding, and we carried on to the toy box.

I found the vehicle I was looking for. There were logos and stickers on the sides, and I saw something that showed 1:10.

When I found a school ruler, wow, was it big? Or was I just so much smaller?

I lay down next to it, nearly nine inches, that I reckoned put me at a scale of about 1:8, Barbara stood just over the eight inches, with her feet now flat on the ground, not the exaggerated high heel stance of the Barbie doll, I judged her to be 5’4” maybe 5’5” or the equivalent in real-people sizing.

I didn’t know what magic was at play here, but when I got to the vehicle, it was sized to fit us, and quite comfortably upholstered. I pushed and manoeuvred and got it out of the toy box; it still only weighed the one and a half kilograms, that I knew it to be.

Once on the ground, the vehicle seemed to be closer to the two-odd tons, or equivalent, that such a vehicle would have weighed in real life.

I scrounged around and found GI Joe’s binoculars, and some of the other kit that he used, including a pair of handcuffs, what the hell do soldiers who aren’t MPs need handcuffs for, I had never used any, myself, way back then, and I wasn’t certain what I might need handcuffs for, I was going to shoot at rats and anything else that seemed in any way threatening.