Caught in the Net

by Breanna Hayse

  “This is amazing… Like I’m floating in a gas bubble…” Dr. Quimby whispered.

  Scott added. “It’s making me sleepy… I can’t focus on anything.”

  “Okay, I’m going to image something now. Be honest,” Sam said.

  “Samantha!” both of them barked as she placed a picture of a naked woman in her mind.

  “Cut it out now. It’s uncomfortable,” Dr. Quimby ordered, breaking out of the integration. “What the hell was that about?”

  “You broke out? How?” Sam's mouth fell open.

  “Without difficulty. Scott?”

  “I’m fine. A little tired, but otherwise normal. Mike?”

  “Nothing from over here. What did she do?”

  “Showed us a very pretty young lady who was completely disrobed,” Scott grumbled.

  “How did you break it off, Dad?” Michael asked, rejoining them on the couch and ignoring Scott's rumbling.

  “I just took myself back to the present. Very simple. It’s almost a REM state,” Dr. Quimby commented.

  “That would make sense. Do you plant similar images in Rich’s mind when you swirl him, little sister?”

  “I did and got quite a different reaction. That’s why I promised to stop. Can I try one more time? No naked women, I promise.”

  “Go ahead. This is interesting. I want to study it further with you,” her father said eagerly. Sam grinned, excited about the opportunity to do research with him.

  “Awesome! Okay, Mike - this is what I’m going to place in their minds.” She wrote down something and handed it to him.

  He chuckled. “This should certainly be interesting. Let’s see what happens.”

  Sam went back into the state of concentration, this time imaging them both taking her shopping for shoes (which they hated).

  “I’m not feeling anything much, honey. I do remember, though, you said something about needing some new shoes?” Dr. Quimby murmured.

  Scott grunted. “Me too… I'm sorry. I promised that I would give you my credit card when you asked and I must have forgotten. Remind me tomorrow.”

  “I will. Do I have a spending limit?” Sam asked, knowing how her uncle tended to pinch pennies.

  “Of course not, princess. Spend whatever you like,” Scott said groggily.

  “Are you aware that I put this suggestion in your minds?” she asked, releasing them.

  Dr. Quimby opened his eyes. “It’s so strong, like I need to do it right now. This could be dangerous. Fascinating, but very dangerous.”

  “For our wallets. It’s almost a form of hypnosis,” Scott commented, shaking his head. “FYI, no shopping with my card.”

  “This is very interesting. Okay, off to bed with you now. Darling?”

  “Yes, Daddy?”

  “If I ever find out you are trying to manipulate anyone using this, things will not be good for you. I am serious about this. You are never, ever to practice this unsupervised. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well, then. Kiss. Sleep tight,” he said, kissing her soundly. She kissed Scott and then trotted up to her room. Her father looked at Michael. “So she tried to seduce Rich?”

  “Two cold showers worth. I talked to her about it. I don’t think she’ll do it again.”

  “She’s very naïve in this aspect. She has no idea how to woo or be wooed.”

  “No, but she sure knows how to give the man a serious hard on. You do know they are going to be staying together. I can tell.”

  “We do too. He’s already starting to fall in love with her. Poor boy,” Scott chuckled. “I just hope he has the gumption to handle her.”

  “He does, don’t worry. So, let me tell you about Jen,” Michael said, launching into details about their time together.

  Scott smiled. “I’m glad to see you happy, my boy. I hope this works out for you.”

  “Me too, son. I just pray your sister doesn’t frighten her away,” Dr. Quimby added, concerned.

  “We all know that any woman who enters into this family has to be strong. Samantha is the measuring rod.”

  “Good luck, Michael. You have your work cut out for you,” Scott sighed.

  Chapter 10

  Sam called Jen early the next morning to invite her over for dinner and family game night. Jen sounded unsure.

  “You don’t think it’s too soon? I mean, I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Okay, let’s get this out on the table. You’re gonna have to meet them eventually, so what better way to do it then to see how badly they cheat?”

  “Cheat?” Jen started laughing.

  “They are terrible. And really sore losers too. Come on, you’ll have fun. It’s us girls and Rich against Michael and the old folks. Losers make dinner.”

  “And what are you playing?”

  “Dunno. It’s luck of the draw. Just hope it’s not trivial pursuit, we’ll get slammed. They make up their own questions,” Sam giggled.

  “Okay, I’ll come. What time do you want me?”

  “About 3:00. Do you want me to come pick you up? I’ll steal Mike’s Jag or Daddy’s Lexus.”

  “That’s okay, I have a car. I need your address.”

  The two girls talked a while longer before hanging up. Grinning, Sam skipped over to Michael’s room where he was on his bed reading. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Nothing important. What’s up?” He put his book down.

  She plopped next to him. “I just talked to Jen. She’ll be here at 3:00.”

  “I was going to call her.”

  “Well, I beat you to it. I informed her that you guys cheat, too.”

  “Nothing like a good first impression. Did you get your room cleaned?”

  She rolled her eyes. Every Saturday morning since she could remember, was when she had to clean her bedroom. Unlike her brother, it was an effort. “No. I don't wanna.”

  “Too bad. Go do it before Dad comes up. You know what will happen if it’s not finished. Go on.”

  “Help me.”

  “No. It won’t take you that long. When you’re done, we’ll go do something.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. This was also the same conversation the two had nearly every week since she was little. Failure to clean her quarters resulted in being grounded for the weekend, and Sam loathed being confined to the house. She opted to clean. It took her a few minutes to toss clothes in the hamper and make her bed. Her bathroom was a disaster with her make-up and potions all around; and, with a grumble, she quickly straightened everything up. She already knew that her drawers and closets would be looked at and had only tried one time to hide her mess. Sam complained under her breath; it was like going through a military locker inspection every weekend. It took her a good hour to finish and, still grumbling, she returned to Michael’s room.

  “Are you done?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I hate cleaning. How come you’re so neat?”

  “Always been that way. Let me take a look then we can go out,” he said, swinging his long legs off the bed and leading her into her room. Tsking, he pointed to her closet where she had tossed her shoes. Making a face, she put them away neatly. He changed a light bulb for her in the bathroom, because she couldn’t reach without climbing. “You need to do your laundry today. Throw it in the wash and we’ll leave. You know it would be so easy for you if you just cleaned up after yourself. You do it at work.”

  “I told you. I hate cleaning. When I get married, my husband better like doing it, because I will refuse.”

  “Good luck with that. Okay, let’s go down to the beach. The tide’s low.”

  She raced happily in front of him, camera in hand. She loved tide pooling and taking pictures of the creatures they discovered. It never got old.

  “Good morning, children. Going down to the beach?” Dr. Quimby asked, looking up from the lounger on the deck where he read his paper and sipped coffee.

  “Morning, Daddy. You're up early.” She kissed him. “Jen will be here about 3:00. You k
now, I just realized that this is a set up. Rich and Jen are guests; which means if we lose, I’m the only one cooking! That’s not fair.”

  “I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes, okay?” he teased. “Is your room clean?”

  “Yes. Michael already ragged on me about it. We’ll be back in a little while.”

  “All right, have fun. And put on sun screen.”

  * * * * *

  The sun was warm with the marine layer already burning off and the two carefully picked their way over the rocks and talked quietly. Michael admitted feeling restless, missing being on board ship where he was always actively doing something.

  “Do you think Daddy is deliberately interfering with assignments? We haven’t done much since we got home.”

  “I think that’s part of it. I think the other is that things are quiet right now. I guess that’s a good thing. When the weather worsens, we’ll probably be busier. You like lab work, though.”

  “I also like collecting. I really want to challenge the canyon. I’m kind of scared, though.”

  “You should be protected, but I wouldn’t take the chance. Dad has fits with you at 300 feet. He’d have a heart attack if he found you going to 600.”

  “I know. I already give him enough to worry about. Hey look… A moray! It's stuck in the pool and it's gonna fry in the sun."

  “Stay away from that thing. They are… Shit, Sam! Are you okay?” he asked as she yanked her hand back and saw blood.

  He grabbed her hand, squeezing to clean it out. “Let’s get you home. Dad needs to sew this up.”

  “NO! That hurts. Stupid eel. I hope someone eats you.” She glared at the wriggling fish as it swam into open water, “You're welcome!”

  “I'm sure this hurts much more than a little needle. Put pressure on it,” he ordered, leading her back up to the house. “You would do anything to keep from having to cook tonight, wouldn’t you?”

  “Don’t tease me. I don’t like needles and you know it,” she whimpered, blood dripping down her arm and through her fingers as she pressed on the gash. Michael opened the back doors and called for his father.

  “I’m right here… what happened this time?” he asked calmly, pulling Sam's hand away from the wide gash.

  “Moray in a pool got her.”

  “Okay, let’s clean this up. Mike, go into my trunk and get my bag, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Quimby brought the girl to the kitchen sink and started washing the wounds with soap, ignoring her complaints. When satisfied, he dried her hand and took a good look.

  “Well?” Michael asked, sitting on a bar stool.

  “Several punctures and a deep slice. Sorry, kiddo, but this needs to be closed up.”

  “NO!”

  “Told you so,” Michael added.

  “Shh, you won’t feel anything. I have some lidocaine I’ll numb you with. Sit down and stay still.”

  “I hate needles!”

  “Then don’t watch. I’m just squirting into the wounds. This will sting then go numb. There you go,” he said softly, used to the protests of his accident-prone daughter.

  Scott walked in, scowling. “What's all this whining about? Who did she beat up?”

  “A moray. How’s that? Can you feel anything?”

  “Pressure. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “Accidents happen, especially with you. Okay, all done. That wasn't bad, was it?”

  “No, sir.”

  He kissed her hand before wrapping it. Michael laughed. “Do you kiss the crews’ boo-boos too?”

  “Shut up, Michael. We didn’t ask for your comments,” his sister snapped.

  “Don’t talk to your brother like that. He didn't do anything. Apologize,” her father ordered sternly.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, massaging her sore hand.

  Her father patted her thigh. “You need to keep it dry for a week. It will be a good time to test if you need complete submergence or if you can balance by simple soaking. I’ll need to get you some antibiotics too, those morays have filthy mouths.”

  “I hate medicine.”

  “Yes, we all know what a wonderful and cooperative patient you are,” he responded patiently.

  Scott smoothed her hair from her face. “Can I get you anything, baby girl?”

  “A new brother. This one’s a butthead.”

  “What did I do?” Michael demanded.

  “You didn’t stop me from trying to rescue that stupid eel. This is your fault.”

  “Of course it is. It's always my fault in one way or another. I’m going upstairs and changing. Jen will be here in a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll make some lunch. Honey, do you need some help getting cleaned up? You have blood all over you and you are covered with sand,” Dr. Quimby said, wiping some blood off her arm.

  “If I need help, there is a butthead across the hall that I can call. Are you making grilled cheese sandwiches?”

  “Do you want grilled cheese?” He acknowledged her nod, “Okay, then that’s what I’ll make. When is Rich coming over?”

  “He’ll be here anytime. Let him deal with her,” Michael grumbled over the butthead remark.

  Scott shook his head. “I don’t think Rich is ready to handle the world’s worse patient just yet. I like the boy and want him to hang around a little longer.”

  “You’re a butthead too, Uncle Scott.”

  “Ah, but one who loves you very, very much. Come here.”

  “Put me down! I can walk!” she shrieked as he caught her in his arms and began carrying her upstairs.

  Dr. Quimby laughed as he put away his supplies. “Scott used to do that to your mom all the time. He loved carrying her, mainly to hear her scream at him.”

  “But Mom couldn’t turn around and flip him over her shoulder. He better watch out, she’s been practicing escape moves.”

  “Hurt your hand?” Scott asked, dropping the girl on her bed after she unsuccessfully tried to escape. It was bleeding again, through the dressings.

  She nodded, pouting. “I need more practice. This really hurts, Scott. Feel me better.”

  “I’ll get you something. Let’s get you cleaned up first. You’re a mess,” he said, running the tub for her. He returned to the room, seeing her sitting with her eyes closed. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to swirl myself. If I can raise my endorphins, this won’t hurt so badly.”

  “Get in the tub and practice in there. Arms up,” he said, pulling off her shirt. He silently undressed her then helped her into the bath, putting a towel on the edge for her throbbing hand. She settled into the bubbles, fighting the sharp pain. Scott kneeled on the floor to wash the blood and sand off her. His eyes suddenly glazed with tears.

  “Uncle Scott? Are you all right? It’s not that bad.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m having a tough time.”

  “Why? I always get hurt.”

  “Did Dad ever tell you what happened with Mom?”

  “No. I’ve never asked either. It always seemed to be taboo.”

  “She got bit by a stupid tick. We had no idea. It happened so fast that by the time we figured it out, it was too late. A tick. Something so insignificant caused so much hurt.”

  “Moray’s aren’t poisonous. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know. It just brought the memory to the surface. And here I am, giving you a bubble bath like you were three. You’re too old for this. I’m sorry.” He started to stand, looking embarrassed.

  “Uncle Scott? Before you go, will you scrub my back? And wash my hair? You do it best.”

  Scott smiled, happily kneeling to oblige. He toweled her dry and helped her dress before combing out and blow-drying her hair. “I’m so jealous,” he admitted, gently brushing her long tresses as she sat between his legs.

  “Why?”

  “One day I won’t be able to take care of you anymore and will be replaced by someone else. Probably Rich.”

  “You’ll always be able t
o take care of me. Besides, you are the only one I don't give a hard time to. You know I won’t let Rich or anyone else stop you. Uncle Scott? I love you,” she said, kissing his rough cheek.

  “You’ll always be my baby girl. I love you, too,” he said, hugging her sweetly. He turned his head towards the door. “Sounds like Rich is here. Another bull in the china shop.”

  “If that’s a nice way of saying I announce my presence, thank you,” Rich said, entering the room. He returned Scott’s hug and kneeled next to Sam, gently picking up her hand. “I heard you lost the fight with a moray. How is it?” he asked, gently kissing her fingertips.

  “I’ll live. Are you going, Uncle Scott? You don’t have to.”

  “You’re in good hands for the time being. He can finish getting you dressed,” Scott smiled, kissing the top of her head before leaving.

  “Dressed?”

  “He always makes me wear shoes. I’m going barefoot. It used to drive him crazy when I was little. He would fight to get my shoes on and within minutes, they were off again. He never could figure out how I managed to untie the knots.”

  “How did you?”

  “Michael. He knew that I would start screaming if the shoes didn’t come off, so he untied them as soon as Scott turned his back,” she snickered.

  Rich kissed her. “Maybe we should humor him and put your sneakers on.”

  “I don’t think so. Wanna do me a favor? Grab the nail polish from my bathroom cabinet and paint my toenails.” She grinned, wiggling her well-manicured toes.

  Rich sighed, grabbing a bottle of candy pink polish. “I think half the testosterone just left my body. I never thought I would see the day I’d be doing this,” he commented, concentrating on his assigned task. He stroked her slender ankles as he dabbed on the polish. She even had beautiful feet. He began to massage her in-step, careful not to mess up his artwork.

  “Damn, that feels good. Okay, you are hired,” she groaned.

  “I might not be able to swirl you, but I can make you as weak as you make me. Just wait,” he promised.

  “Oh, I am waiting... but not patiently. You have incredible hands.”