by J. B. Tilton
"You mentioned psychological testing," Jeremy said.
"Oh, you won't have to go through that. Neither will Janet. She's all ready had hers because of her job at the research center. The psychological testing is only for the other people we select for the team."
"I'm aware of that," said Jeremy. "I only wanted to say I'd like to see what kind of psychological test it is. I might be able to help fine tune it and get better results. Sometimes those test can be somewhat generalized. I could help make sure it fits our needs."
"That's not a bad idea. I'll talk to the head psychiatrist when I get back and see what he thinks. I'm sure he'll be happy to have the help."
"What's his name?" Jeremy asked.
"Walt Hiensman. He's been with the agency from the beginning."
"I've met him at a couple of psychiatric conventions. He's very good. It's nice to know the people safeguarding our homeland are in such good hands."
"Nothing but the best," said Scarborough, smiling.
"What about other people in the agency?" Janet asked. "Besides Kamalene. Any of them been identified as having special talents?"
"Not so far. There may be some they may just be afraid to say anything. It's kind of like admitting to seeing a UFO. If some regular Joe claims to have seen a UFO, no one thinks much of it. But if say a professional pilot claims to have seen a UFO, he gets labeled a nut job and risks getting grounded."
"Which actually doesn't make a lot of sense," said Jeremy. "A UFO is simply a flying object you can't identify. It could be a plane, jet, helicopter, almost anything. I've seen plenty of them. A flashing light moving across the sky. It's a flying object that much I know. But I have no idea what kind it is. Simply calling it a 'UFO' doesn't necessarily mean you're talking about a flying saucer or little green men."
"Yeah, well when people hear 'UFO' that's usually what they think of first," said Scarborough.
As they were talking Jeremy's attention was drawn to the outside exit of the food court. He watched as a young black man wandered into the court. It was hard to tell exactly how old the man was from his condition but Jeremy judged he was probably somewhere in his early 20s.
But the man was completely out of place in the food court. Most of the people were dressed somewhat nicely. They were out for a day of shopping or to pick up something they needed. There were even a few in various types of uniforms who had probably stopped in for lunch.
This young man was totally different. He had long hair that hung to his shoulders and obviously hadn't been washed in at least several days. His beard was scraggly and unkempt and also hadn't been washed. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans that were obviously much too large for him. And he was wearing an old style field jacket that had once been standard issue in the military. As Jeremy watched the man cautiously made his way through the food court and the reaction from some of the people near him indicated he had a distinct odor to him.
Scarborough noticed Jeremy watching the man and looked over to see what he was looking at.
"Just some homeless guy," Scarborough said. "We have quite a few of them in D.C. especially the way the economy is. Mall security will probably be by shortly to move the guy on his way."
"That's a shame," said Janet. "We're supposed to be the richest country in the world. No one should have to live like that."
"True, but unfortunately it's a fact of life," said Jeremy. "Whenever I see one I always wonder what their story is. I'm sure no one chooses to be homeless. But there's usually a reason for it. I just wonder what his is."
As he continued to watch the young man he noticed the man try to move nonchalantly to a nearby table. The table still had several trays that had been left behind by the patrons who had been sitting there. Several half finished meals sat on the trays waiting for the food court staff to clean them up. As the man glanced furtively around, as if looking to see if anyone was watching him, he began to pick up some of the food and shove it in his mouth.
Jeremy also noticed some unusual behavior in the man. As he shoved food into his mouth with one hand, the other hand was massaging his temple. As if he were having a headache and was trying to massage the pain away. And the expression on the man's face indicated he was definitely in pain.
Jeremy also noticed that the man seemed to be muttering to himself as he looked around the food court. Jeremy couldn't hear what he was saying but he was definitely muttering something. Jeremy decided he was probably someone with a mental illness and may have been off his medication for a while. He had seen it all too frequently in his practice.
The man finished the food on the tray and moved to another nearby empty table. As he began to consume the remains of those meals, two mall security guards began to approach him. As the guards approached him the man began to back away. By now he was massaging both of his temples with both hands. As the guards moved in on him the man's voice raised several octaves.
"Get out of my head," the man nearly screamed. "Go away. Leave me alone. Get out of my head."
"Poor soul," said Scarborough. "He should be in a hospital."
"Not necessarily," said Jeremy, standing up and moving toward the young man. "Come on, Richard. We may need your credentials."
Jeremy moved over to where the three men stood. The two security guards were trying to get hold of the man but he kept backing away from them, the entire time screaming for them to get out of his head. Jeremy pushed past the two guards and stood in front of the man, his hands help out as if to help the man.
"It's okay. I'm a doctor. I'm here to help you."
"You can't help me," screamed the man. "No one can help me. Just leave me alone. I just want to be left alone. And get out of my head. You're killing me."
Suddenly the man collapsed onto a nearby table sending the contents of the table sprawling in all directions. Jeremy move over and knelt down to examine the man. He had obviously passed out but there was no indication why. Jeremy looked up at Scarborough and nodded once to him. Scarborough pulled out his Homeland Security identification and showed it to the 2 security guards.
"Homeland Security," he said. "We'll take care of this."
The two guards looked at each other for a moment and then backed off. As a doctor Jeremy was trained to handle almost any medical situation. But it didn't necessarily help with the smell that was emanating from the man.
"Oh, boy, this one is really ripe," said Janet, turning her head to try and avoid the stench from the guy.
"He hasn't had a bath in days," said Jeremy.
"He's just some bum that wanders in here from time to time and eats off the leftover trays," said one of the security guards. "We usually just move him on his way."
"That bum is a human being," said Scarborough. "Someone who may just be down on his luck and is surviving the best way he can. You should be thankful you have a decent job and a nice home. I'm sure he isn't this way by choice."
The two security guards just looked at each other and then decided to leave the situation to Jeremy, Janet, and Scarborough. They turned and headed back into the mall.
"That was pretty harsh," Janet whispered to Scarborough.
"I had an uncle who became homeless when he lost his job," said Scarborough. "Lived pretty much the way this guy does. They found him one January frozen to a heating grate trying to stay warm. No one should have to live like that."
"Let's get him out of here," said Jeremy. "Richard, I know he smells bad but we need to get him to your car. I'll pay for any cleaning it might need."
"Don't worry about it, Jeremy. It's the least we can do for another human being. I guess being a psychiatrist you just naturally gravitate toward the less fortunate in society.
"Sometimes," said Jeremy. "But that's not what's going on here." He lowered his voice so only Janet and Scarborough could hear him. "This guy was using an ability. Even like this, unconscious as he is, it's still working. It's one of the strongest I've ever seen. And I don't detect any sign of illness or injury."
"He's
using an ability while he's unconscious?" Janet questioned. "I didn't think that was possible."
"Neither did I," said Jeremy. "But we need to get him out of here. And we need to get him someplace safe and secluded."
"I know of a place," said Scarborough. "It's on the outskirts of Silver Spring. Very secluded. It shouldn't take us long to get there."
"Good," said Jeremy. "Now, help me get him to the car. The sooner we get out of here, the better."
Together Jeremy and Scarborough picked up the man and began to carry him to the parking lot. Janet hurried ahead of them and held the doors open as they carried the man through them. A few minutes later they were driving out of the parking lot heading for Silver Spring, Maryland.
CHAPTER NINE
The young man opened his eyes and looked around. He was in what appeared to be a bedroom and a young woman sat next to his bed reading a magazine. He apparently had been bathed and shaved and was dressed in a pair of pajamas. As he looked around the room the woman noticed he was awake. She got up walked to the door.
"Dr. Sloan, he's awake."
A moment later Jeremy and Scarborough came into the room. Jeremy sat down in a chair next to the man while Scarborough took a seat in a chair at the foot of the bed. Jeremy picked up the man's left wrist and began to check his pulse.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Okay I guess," said the man, rubbing his head with his right hand.
"You still have a headache?"
"Yeah, all the time. Sometimes they get really bad. Where am I?"
"You're in a private residence on the outskirts of Silver Spring," said Jeremy taking some pills out of his pocket. "Here. Take these. They should help with the headache."
"What are they?"
"Painkillers. It's okay. I'm a doctor. What's your name?"
"Conrad. Conrad Miles."
"Well, Conrad, you gave us quite a scare. You passed out in the food court. You could have been seriously injured."
"Not that it would matter. Look, I don't have any money. And no insurance. I can't pay you for any of this."
"I'm not concerned with payment," said Jeremy. "My name is Jeremy Sloan. I'm a psychiatrist. This is Richard Scarborough. He helped me bring you here."
"A psychiatrist? That's perfect. I suppose now you're going to put me in some nut house and pump me full of drugs. Isn't that what you do with crazy people?"
"What makes you think you're crazy?" Jeremy asked.
"Normal people don't hear things. Things that aren't there."
"You hear things? You mean, like voices? Inside your head?"
"No, not voices. Things. I don't hear any voices telling me to do stuff. But I hear things. Like right now I'm hearing stuff about Homeland Security. And people with special talents. Threats from terrorists."
Jeremy just looked at Scarborough. Neither of them had mentioned anything about Homeland Security or terrorists. How could this young man possible know that?
"How old are you?" Scarborough asked.
"Nineteen," replied Conrad. He just looked at Scarborough. "And I don't need your pity. I just want to be left alone and have the things out of my head."
"Who said anything about pity?" Jeremy asked.
"No one. But it's written all over him." He looked at Scarborough. "He feels sorry for me. Like I'm some kind of freak that people need to feel sorry for. I'm no freak. I may be crazy but I'm no freak. I just want to be left alone."
"We'll let you get some rest," said Jeremy. "I'll have some food brought in for you. I'm sure you can use it. We'll talk again in a bit when you're headache has subsided. Right now, just get some rest."
"What was all that about?" Scarborough asked when he and Jeremy had moved into the other room. "I never said anything about feeling sorry for him."
"Not directly," said Jeremy. "But you do feel sorry for him, don't you? Because of what your uncle went through."
"Yeah, I suppose so. Like I said, no one should have to live like that."
"And that talk about Homeland Security and terrorists. Neither of us said anything about that."
"What about in the food court? I did identify myself as being with Homeland Security. Do you think it's possible he heard me?"
"Hang on a second. Kamalene. Take some food into Conrad, will you? He's probably starving."
"Sure Dr. Sloan."
"Richard, it is possible he overheard you identify yourself even while he was unconscious. We're still aware of our surroundings even when we're asleep or unconscious. But no one mentioned terrorists either in the food court or here."
"So what? He heard Homeland Security and just assumed?
"I don't think so. He said he heard things. Not voices, things. And that he was hearing things about terrorist while we were in there. He also mentioned people with special talents. That's a term that's only been used a few times. And certainly not while we were with him, unconscious or awake."
"That is odd. That term was coined by one of our analysts. We just sort of adopted it and outside of Homeland Security headquarters I'm not sure it's ever been used. How could he know about it?"
"That's a good question. But what if he didn't hear it anywhere? What if he just learned it?"
"What do you mean 'just learned it'?"
"In the mall he kept saying 'get out of my head'. And just now in that room he said he hears 'things'. Not voices, things. Most schizophrenics hear voices. Voices usually telling them to do things. He said there were no voices telling him to do anything. He just heard 'things'."
"So what, he really is crazy?"
"I don't think so," said Jeremy. "I think we might be dealing with some form of telepathy. Remember I did see him using an ability. Even now he's still using it. Maybe he has the ability to draw information out of a person's mind. That could account for the 'things' he hears. He gathering information from the minds around him but he's being so inundated with them he doesn't know how to stop it."
"Kind of like being in a crowded room with everyone shouting at the tops of their lungs at the same time. The noise can literally be quite deafening and can even cause headaches, or so I understand."
"Exactly. Only instead of hearing those voices you've described, he's hearing information in people's minds. God only knows how much information he's being inundated with every second of every day. No wonder he has migraines."
"So he has headaches."
"Quite possibly. It's not like my own ability. If I use it too much or too often I can get headaches. It puts a lot of pressure on my optic nerve and we do know that bright light can cause headaches. With him I'd think it would be even more severe. It's possible he doesn't know how to control his ability. He may not even know he has one. So subconsciously he's drawing information from all the minds around him. Can you imagine the massive amounts of information he must have been gathering from all those people in the mall? Getting it all at one time with no way to separate or categorize it?"
"So what about the pity part? I wasn't thinking about feeling sorry for him when we were in the room. I was thinking about what kind of a security risk he might represent. I know what you're thinking, Jeremy. He might be a good addition to the team. And I have to admit, if you're right, having someone who can literally pick someone else's brain can be very useful.
"But we know virtually nothing about this guy. He might be some psychopath or serial killer. We can't even consider bringing him into the group until we find out who he is and what his story is. And if he can read our minds there's no telling the damage he could do and we wouldn't even know what information he's been able to gather. But that still doesn't explain how he knew I was feeling sorry for him."
"I can't answer that, Richard. Not yet. And you're right about all of that. Until we learn more about him I'm not even going to mention anything about the group. I can tell if he's lying but that's about it. I would suggest that you get started on the background check. Find out who he is and where he's from. Most homeless people have a tendency
to stay around where they used to live, especially in large metropolitan areas like the D.C. area. A simple check of birth records, school records, that sort of thing might tell us who he is."
"I know how to run a background check, Jeremy. But it's also possible he's not from around here. He could be from just about anywhere. That's going to make checking on him more difficult."
"Well, I'll have a chat with him when he's feeling better and see what information I can get out of him. Why don't you start that background check with the local authorities? If he is from around here we should be able to get some information on him."
"I'll get started on it right away. I'll leave Kamalene here so she can help you if you need it. Where's Janet? She didn't say anything when she left."