Psychic

by F. P. Dorchak

  Kennedy did. All the talking and laughter had ceased. He looked to those in the amphitheater. Everyone — all the children, all the adults — looked to him; gave warm, understanding smiles. In his mind he heard: Gina’s right, we’re all here for you, just as you’re here for us. We’re all in this together. Remember that!

  Everyone returned to their conversations, to the same level of excitement and noise prior to their diversion.

  “We’re all being taught here,” Gina said, “Right now. You may not see it, but we are. He’s very good.”

  “I’ve known him from way back. He gets around.”

  Gina laughed. “If you only knew how much!”

  “I wish I knew how he did it.”

  “He’s a very special guy. He’s good at what he does, is all I know.”

  Kennedy and Gina sat back down, and again snuggled back up to each other. Together they again lay back to watch the stars…

  2

  In the dark of night, the Man With No Name took another sip of iced tea. He leaned back in his chair on his front porch.

  “You did a great job, Mr. President. It may not seem like it — but you did.”

  Kennedy jerked forward, almost spilling his iced tea.

  “Hey, now — careful there, sir! If you’re not gonna drink the stuff, give it to me — I hate wasting a good beverage!”

  “What — I was just—”

  “I know. Not only does this illustrate how you are being trained, between layers of consciousness you may or may not be aware of, this is also my way of adding another layer of confusion to Black. He’s a slippery bastard, as I’m sure you’re aware. What Gina told you.”

  “Gina — wasn’t I just talking with her?”

  “Still are. I’ve just slipped in for a spell,” he said, extending an angled hand into the night before him like a fighter pilot, “real tricky-like, so he doesn’t know where we are. All he might possibly see are all of you in that dream together, and it’ll frustrate the hell out of him, because he knows I’m around… somewhere… but he just can’t nail me down!”

  “How do you do all this?”

  “Well, now, that’s a trade secret, Mr. President. Can’t tell you everything. Less you know, safer things are. Plausible deniability and all that.”

  “What ‘things?’”

  “Black’s on a roll. You may have changed the outcome to whether or not you hired him, but he knew that was coming and prepared for it. It wasn’t a big coup, what you did, but it was enough to monkey-wrench his plans and annoy the hell out of him.”

  “So he is still with us.”

  “Yeah.” The Man With No Name took another sip. “Take a drink, Jack, see if you like it. It’s my own special blend.”

  Kennedy took a sip, ice clanking about in the glass, and wiped spilled tea from the side of the glass and the back of his hand. “Thank you. It is good!”

  “Oh, it’s just a little something I whipped up. Now, you need to realize that you’re not acting alone any more, like your friends said. I’m gonna have to get you all together sooner than I’d expected. Though you did delay Black, there’s no contradiction when I say that that just caused him to accelerate matters.”

  Kennedy nodded. “So… what do we do?”

  “Work as a team. Surround him, literally and figuratively. He’s got a hostage, you know.”

  “A hostage?”

  The Man With No Name took another sip, then got up out of the chair. He set his glass down on the railing before him. Stared out into the night.

  “He’s captured… and is torturing… a boy he thinks knows my whereabouts.”

  “Does he?” Kennedy asked as he also got to his feet. He heard the Man With No Name inhale deeply and straighten up, as if his answer was gonna be painful.

  “No… he doesn’t. That’s what makes all this worse. He’s going to kill that kid to get him to give an answer he can’t deliver. And it’s all my fault. He’s done this before.”

  “Why don’t we just take him out? We have teams out thereah for just this kind of—”

  The Man With No Name turned to him. “I wish it were that simple, sir, but just as we’re working behind his back, he is working behind ours. If we were to just go in and do that, it would upset far more than it would alleviate. Believe me — I don’t intend to let this boy die.” He turned back to the darkness. “Not at all…”

  “But, he’s being tortured.”

  The Man With No Name turned back around. “I know. And if we were to just charge on in there, with everything he has in place, far more would be destroyed. He knows this, he’s not stupid. He’s baiting us. This is exactly what he wants us to do, and we can’t take the bait.

  “If you knew you could save one life versus many what would you do — as President, Jack — how would you handle this scenario?”

  The Man With No Name crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing.

  “If I’d used all my options? If I’d already tried several times to rescue the one — and nothing worked?”

  The Man With No Name nodded.

  “Then, I’d have no choice. Go with the many — but, I’d still have a parallel task force working on the one.”

  “Exactly. You’d do everything in your power to save that boy, but you’d also do all you could to save the world. That’s what we’re doing. But, to show our hand right now would do far more harm than good, and that kills me to have to admit, especially when it comes to an innocent.

  “But we also can’t put things off too much more,” he continued, “because if we do… then our innocent dies. I will not allow that to happen.

  “What we have to do, sir, is work together. You’ll be working with Gina and her group, but on levels that may or may not be immediately clear — don’t ask — it’ll all play out as efforts solidify. I just wanted to let you know that we are close to our offensive, I guess you could say. Things change in an instant—”

  The Man With No Name’s face suddenly went slack.

  “What’s the matter?” Kennedy asked.

  “He’s done it again!”

  “Done what? Who?”

  The Man With No Name paced the porch in quick, frustrated steps. “He’s got another!”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I can’t — Jack, just be ready. We’re always in contact, just like I know what happened. Shit — this again changes things. I really didn’t want to have to show our hand this soon!”

  “Who’s the other hostage?”

  “A woman he thinks can also lead him to me — and he’s much closer to the truth with her than he knows — but, not in the way he thinks he knows. Shit-shit-shit! He’s been a pain in my ass for lifetimes…

  “Mr. President, I’m sorry, but I have to go. You have all you need for now, just be open and ready. Things are going to happen fast.”

  President Kennedy nodded. He was about to say something, when he found himself back in the amphitheater, talking with Gina. Still talking with her.

  Had he always been talking with her?

  Kennedy paused, as if suddenly remembering a forgotten memory. “Hm. Guess I am. That was weird. How could I have forgotten that?”

  Gina smiled.

  “It’s pretty weird knowing you’re dreaming, while you’re dreaming,” Kennedy said, “That happen to you a lot?”

  “Yeah, actually; part of the job.”

  As Kennedy continued talking with Gina, he kept trying to pull whatever weird memory was way back in the depths of his mind… but it didn’t budge. He didn’t want to be rude to Gina, but it got to the point where he’d simply lost whatever the memory was, and had to let it go…

  What had Gina just said?

  “You say that as if—”

  “Sorry, sir,” Gina said, “but he did manage to sneak back in…”

  “Damn!”

  3

  Black opened his eyes.

  There were spies in his midst. He knew it.

  Sittin
g behind his desk in his darkened office, he stared straight ahead at the wall. He didn’t know who or how many, but that damned man from his nightmares was behind it all. First he’d been hunting him in his dreams, then he gets to Kennedy — and now The Center. Infiltrated them.

  Time to drop the hammer.

  If you wanted things done — and done right — you simply had to do them yourself.

  No more fucking around.

  He was just going to have to take matters more into his own hands — and now he had a little help. Too bad if things got messy. Wetwork was his specialty. And if he had to orchestrate a little world domination along the way, so be it. He would put an end to him forever — one way or the other. And Kennedy. Those two were inextricably linked. They were, in a manner of speaking, history…

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  1

  Lizzie awoke, groggily.

  Walking… she’d been taking a stroll… in the glorious sunrise… the air had smelled so sweet, so fresh and…

  Then what’d happened?

  Her trailer… gone.

  Her trailer had simply up and left?

  How had that been possible? How could her—

  Slowly the haze burned off… she opened her eyes… made out her surroundings.

  A blinding white room…

  Upright. A high-backed chair. She tried to get up.

  Unable to.

  She looked down — tried to, anyway — but her head was anchored. She tried to move it back and forth, but was only able to move about a half-inch or so. Something was placed close to both sides of her head. Her awareness traveled down her body… to her chest, arms, wrists (bound to something?)… legs… to her ankles. All restrained. She wiggled and shifted against her bonds.

  Not only was a shocking why in her head, but who…

  Of course. There was only one “who” in her catalogue of individuals.

  What had she gotten herself into? — or, more importantly, what had Black gotten her into?

  She’d done nothing to attract any of this — except live. Doing her own thing. This was all Black’s doing. All of it. She’d had no hand in it, hadn’t stuck her nose into any areas it hadn’t belonged… hadn’t pissed off anyone. She’d kept to herself and out of everyone else’s business — except where invited and accepted by both parties. Black had invited her to his party, and it had been an invitation she’d flatly rejected. Twice.

  And now, where was she, and what had Black planned for her?

  She closed her eyes and felt her fear expand like a rising bubble. She had to shut it down, nip it in the bud. Mustn’t let him see her crack — even if she was a wreck inside.

  But how tough was she? How much could she endure — physically or mentally? She’d read about people under torture. Those had been other people. She wasn’t supposed to be one of them — she was supposed to be low-income, blue collar, living a comfortable, cozy existence undetected by evil.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen!

  Once more, she’d failed herself, hadn’t she?

  Hadn’t been able to predict Joe’s death and hadn’t been able to detect her own abduction. Not a whisper.

  Lizzie went limp in her restraints.

  Of what use was she, really?

  Of what possible use was she to herself, Mel, Joe, or anyone else, for that matter, if she couldn’t help herself? Was all her so-called psychic ability a fraud? A hoax? Had everything she’d ever told been lies? Good Lord — if there had been even one lie, one misstep — had she screwed up her callers’ lives just like she’d done to her own?

  She couldn’t, and didn’t, want to hold it back. If Black saw her cry, big fucking deal. Just get it over with. She wouldn’t fight back — deserved whatever she got. She couldn’t save her husband, couldn’t help Mel, and now she was just as totally useless to herself.

  What a waste of her parents’ biology.

  A world where evil was allowed to thrive and overtake good…

  Lizzie choked out huge, hot tears that raced down her cheeks, chin, and neck. She felt their wetness run down and onto her chest, which would have tickled under normal circumstances, but now only served to further upset her.

  She should have been able to wipe them away!

  She should have been able to use her arms, her legs — her entire body — but was bound to this damned chair!

  And where were her children — where were they? The ones she was never able to bear, yet played and taunted her every day? Left their toys all over the place?

  Psychic.

  The word made her sick.

  She was a charlatan — a fraud — and had finally been found out.

  Bring it on, Black, do your goddamn worst. Make it as painful as possible, because I deserve it! I’ve screwed up every life I’ve ever touched…

  2

  Like the snapping of a stick, Travis experienced a tremendous emotional release, as he parked his Jeep and made his way into The Center. He sat there, engine still running. He’d had more troubling dreams or images after having gone back to bed after Gina’s call, most of which he couldn’t remember. But when he’d awoken that second time (his ribs had no longer pained him, though there was still a dull reminder), he’d felt an unaccountable emotional weight, like an angry ogre chomping at the bit and stomping about in the wings. It didn’t feel like it was anything about him, but he’d been unable to pinpoint where or to whom it did apply. The longer he’d been awake, the more intense the feeling grew. It was difficult to show up for work — but he had to meet the others and see if things really were as he and Gina had talked about, develop a—

  Of course they are, came a mental response.

  Gina? Am I just making this up, or—

  Come on up and you’ll know.

  You also feel all this… anguish?

  We all do.

  Sure do.

  It was Ryan.

  Yeah, and it’s fucking pissing me off, Lee chimed in.

  I can’t believe we’re actually communicating like this, Travis thought.

  Weird or not, we’re doing it, and something’s the matter. Somehow, we’re supposed to deal with this thing… make it right, Gina thought.

  I know, but it’s so weird. I’ve never heard or read of any kind of intense mental communication like this between anyone — let alone our kind. On any level. It’s all science fiction—

  Get over it, Trav, Cory thought, cause it’s real and we’re living it — and we have a job to do. We can isolate and study later.

  We’ve got to be careful, Travis continued, remember, no looks. No grins. If we’re caught — we’re history—

  By who? Ryan asked.

  Black. Has to be him. If we’re suddenly able to psychically communicate like this, is it that far of a leap to assume he’s not likewise or similarly affected?

  Silence.

  Just limit to emergency use for now. Try to sandwich our thoughts in with the intent of hiding our contact, our communications. It may not work… but it might. It’s all we’ve got.

  Agreed.

  Agreed.

  Sure.

  And one more thing… we need to locate the source of all this misery… whoever gets the opportunity — okay?

  Everyone agreed.

  Travis shut off his vehicle and made his way into the building, past several layers of security and into the upstairs hallway to their office. There he met Gina, talking with Ryan.

  “Morning, kids. How’s everyone?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Ryan said, taking a sip of coffee, briefly eyeing him.

  “Believe?” Gina uttered in a barely audible whisper, taking a sip from her Mello Yellow. She stealthily looked up from her can, and pinched him with her free hand, as she turned to follow Travis on his way to their office. Ryan winked, then acted as if he’d had something caught in his eye, fussing with it for a while.

  “Back to another day in the grind,” Ryan added, and turned to follow.

  3
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  “You know,” Black said, standing before Lizzie Gordon, “I once — twice — gave you the opportunity to assist me on your own. I could forcibly work on you, now — just for the hell of it — or you could still come around of your own free will.”

  Lizzie looked to Black, barely opening her eyes. She’d been out, out hard, and had had some kind of dream about Joe… but she’d been ripped away from that dream, and was now — again — dealing with Victor Black. FBI, he’d claimed. And was helpless. Her eyes were sandy and bothered by the intense white glare of the chamber. She tasted an extra saltiness to her lips from earlier tears, mixed with that sweet taste from before.

  “What… do I have to do… with any of this? Why do you need me?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  Black paced the room around her, hands interlaced pensively before him. “To tell the truth, dear woman, I don’t know. All I do know is that you and this person I seek are inextricably linked. Though I am curious of the link, I’m more interested in results. I need you to find this person for me.”

  “Why can’t you find him?”

  “I assure you, if I could, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with a two-bit phone psychic.”

  “I’m no more psychic than you are.”

  Black laughed. “I’m not sure you truly comprehend the depth of that statement, Mrs. Gordon.”

  “I’m nothing but a fake.”

  Black made a pensive, teasing face. “That may be… it doesn’t really concern me, because — as I’ve already stated — I’m more concerned with whatever link you and my target possess. Results. So, once again, I ask for your cooperation. Do I have it?”

  “Why do you need anything from me? You can obviously take whatever you want.”

  “Yes, but where’s the fun in that? I have my answer.”

  Black exited the room.

  A low humming gradually increased beside Lizzie’s ears. The sound came from what had to be mini-speakers placed on both sides of her head. It was an odd sound that made half her mind want to go one way, while the other half went another. Initially, she found it interestingly comfortable, but she knew no good would come of it. Not with Black involved. This was just the beginning…