by P. S. Power
Bethany simply stood and walked out, following the man without speaking or turning to say goodbye. He didn't say anything more. Apparently he didn't need to.
“Well, he seems like the biggest asshole I've met here so far,” Gwen muttered to herself. If that kind of treatment was what Bethany normally got, she needed to find someone to protect her fast. Hopefully this jerk just didn't like mornings or something. If Gwen could have managed it in this strange place without getting lost, she'd have followed them to make sure Bethany got to the district house alright.
A-holes like that were almost always bullies at the very least, and seemed to use violence as a first response when thwarted, especially by someone they considered a victim. Gwen wasn't an expert in a lot of things, but bullies she knew pretty well as a subject matter. Better than most in fact. Life had made her a pro in that area, if only to simply survive.
Nothing much happened until later in the day, nearly tea time, she figured, trying to become accustomed to the new schedules here. The two detectives came back, Bethany and Chuan, along with a third man, older than the other two, stocky, but not fat, with a shaved bald head and brown mustache. Behind them came her doctor, Schmidt, and two other people, a man and a woman. Attractive but with worried faces, who looked to be in their late forties.
Schmidt walked to the front of both groups.
“Miss Farris... These people are the Vernors, the Father and Mother of Katherine Vernor, whose body you're currently inhabiting? While I don't know that I agree with the decision to see you, it's their wish, and since this is their daughter's body...” He made that peculiar gesture with his hands again, just turning both palms up without lifting his arms, that Gwen took to mean about the same thing as a shrug would back home.
She hadn't even considered the family of her body, having been too preoccupied with her own worries. And good fortune. These poor people. What could she say to them? Sorry I stole your daughter's body, how do you do?
“Uh...hi?” she said, trying to make eye contact with them – the woman first – since she looked the most anxious. She had on a plain gray dress, with a shawl made of the same type of material, a light tweedy looking substance. The hat on her head looked like a rounded black box and sat on top of her hair with a bun behind it. It had some kind of see-through material, like black toile, that sat over the back, covering her hair.
The man looked concerned as well, possibly sad. He wore a suit in a blue color, almost gray, as well, with a white shirt beneath. His hair, mainly brown, had hints of white in it. His eyes though were a steel color, unlike the woman's brown. Clearly Katherine had taken after her mom in coloration, she thought, looking at them both.
The man looked at her, as if searching for his daughter in her eyes for a few moments. Gwen didn't want to be mean, but she doubted that, whoever Katherine had been, she was anything like the girl, even sitting in her body it was probably clear. Finally he started talking, not breaking eye contact.
“They, the doctor and the Constabulary detectives, they told us what happened. I... we, wanted to apologize for our daughter's actions. To... to pass herself into another like that, even to save her own life, knowing, or at least thinking, that you'd die in her stead... it's unforgivable. Please know, if we can ever do anything for you, funds, a place to stay, anything... we'll do what we can to make this right. I know we can't...” His voice choked up on the last words, his eyes teared a little, but he didn't let go of control, holding them in.
Gwen shook her head, noting how much better she felt, since it didn't hurt at all.
“Thanks for the offer, but don't... don't blame her too much. I mean, people will do a lot to survive and who knows what'd been going on in her mind at the time? Maybe she had some greater plan that just didn't work out right? If she used... magic, she probably got to my world where it doesn't work and found herself stuck, and if that's the case, she can't be happy right now. I... my body there, it isn't pretty...” She looked at them both, trying to will them to understand.
Everyone murmured, mouthing polite denials, except the two detectives she'd met before, they stood silent, Bethany watching everything closely collecting all the information she could, as something in this exchange could possibly have bearing on the case. Gwen wondered if that could possibly be true. For all she knew anything they said could give some tiny clue or hint that might help.
Holding up a hand, Gwen stopped them.
“No, you don't understand. I'm not saying that I was a little plain, or average looking, or even just homely. I would have killed to upgrade to homely. I'm saying that I was... wrong. Misshapen, and distorted. I don't know enough about this world to know if you have anyone like what I looked like. Back home I could just have said “the elephant-man” and you'd at least be in the right ballpark, but... The right half of my face sticks out like it's trying to get away from the left, that side looks like something smashed it with a baseball bat... a thick stick. They – the doctors there – didn't even have a name for it, a genetic condition of some kind, they think, but not even surgery could fix it. I can barely breath through my nose, my mouth doesn't close correctly... Something about it all left me short too, not a midget, but darn close, and my body, well, yeah. Not a pretty picture already and it's really a lot worse than it sounds.”
She sighed.
“I don't know if your daughter went there, but... I hope not. Because looking like that, in my world, without my skills... I don't know what she'd do to survive...” Gwen waited for the explosion to come, for someone to call her a monster or demand she get the other girl out of that situation. She didn't want to, but the point she made was an honest one. That girl, coming from this world, probably couldn't make it as her, not there. If Gwen could manage it, she'd have to go back. She dreaded the idea, but nothing else would work. Leaving someone else stuck as her was too great an evil, if she could change it at all.
No explosion came. Instead, the woman, who hadn't offered her name, came forward and put her hand on top of Gwen's, patting it, trying to comfort her. Almost as if she hadn't heard what Gwen had just told her.
“You didn't do anything wrong. We love our daughter, but she wasn't happy with what she had, always searching for more, no matter who it hurt or what she had to do to find it. We...we know she dabbled in dark things, it was probably that which got her into the position she left you in. She had money, good social position, even a decent natural talent at magic. She could have married well, or taken up a vocation, but instead she did things that, well... led her to this. As her parents it's up to us to right her wrongs, if we can. Thank you, for being so understanding about this. I wish she'd been a little more like you. Then maybe...”
The woman broke into quiet sobs then, turning away. Her husband went to comfort her, patting her back awkwardly, providing her with a handkerchief to dry her eyes.
Looking for something to say, to fill the void in conversation that had just taken place, Gwen looked at Bethany.
“Detective Westmorland, have you eaten since this morning?” she asked, not able to think of another topic.
The other woman looked at her, not quite blankly.
“No,” she said, without inflection.
Doctor Schmidt didn't wait, requesting food for her to be brought immediately. When he came back in he glared at the other two men, who had the good grace to look slightly sheepish about not having made sure she ate.
The bald man who had come in with the detectives stepped forward and introduced himself.
“Miss Farris. I'm Warren Peals, chief Constabulary Detective. Our Westmorland detective informed us earlier of an unusual idea you had and we wondered if you could elaborate on it for us?” He held his hat in his hands, shifting it nervously, but he didn't look away from her.
Gwen couldn't think of anything that might seem unusual though.
“Sorry? I don't...” Her eyes darted to Bethany, hoping she might clue her in. Nothing of course, since her eyes simply looked at the wall, proces
sing endless streams of interior data no doubt.
The bald man, Peals, went on.
“You suggested we contact geologists, in order to find the likely quarry that the granite slabs came from? How would that work, exactly?” He looked interested.
Her mouth formed a silent “oh”.
“OK. I see now. Well, granite, all rock really, is more like the other rocks from where it came from than rock from any other place, even the same basic type of stone is slightly different. The composition, trace elements and all that. An expert should be able to tell if all the tables came from the same general area or several. If it's from one area and maybe even if not, they might be able to tell what part of the world it came from and maybe what specific quarry, even without matching it to the site itself. If that location can be found, cuts of rock that could be turned into those tables should be traceable, though that depends on what kind of invoices and shipment records were kept along the way, but it could lead to the retailer, or retailers, if there are any. There are about a dozen places this could fall apart, but even knowing if they came from one location or several could help. Potentially at least.”
During this, Mr. Vernor turned and stared at her. He didn't look angry, just baffled that his daughter's body was saying these apparently strange things. Still, wasn't it common sense? Just things that the police here, the Constabulary, would probably have thought of on their own given a little time?
The chief nodded.
“How many geologists do you suggest we contact for this?” His eyes had never left her face, though he didn't try to intimidate her at all, he simply seemed like he didn't want to miss anything she said. Maybe he was interested in the whole “woman from another world” thing? That seemed likely. A person from another reality did seem kind of cool, even if it was just her.
She thought about it for a second.
“I'd get three. If two agree, without consulting with each other, then you probably have the right answer. If all three do, that's even more telling. Of course, if there's only one available, then that would have to do. I don't know how hard this information will be to come by, this may be anywhere from incredibly basic to impossible here. Back home we'd already have the information online. I just... I don't know what resources you have here as to data collection.” Then she had to explain what computers were, and what online meant, which took some time, not having a common language for the ideas. These people, it turned out, didn't even have basic calculators. They used slide rules still, or paper and pencil.
Before they left, both of the Vernors came over to her to say goodbye and told her to let them know if she ever needed anything. Mr. Vernor gave her two cards. The first would allow her to contact him, twenty-four hours a day, he told her.
The second card would put her in touch with his solicitor.
“He'll be able to pay your monthly stipend. It's only what Katherine had to draw on, so please don't hesitate to ask if you ever need more. Thank you.” He touched her hand gently before he left. The move almost made Gwen jump, but she suppressed the urge. He wasn't trying to hit her or anything, just be... fatherly?
She looked at everyone left in the room and asked no one in particular why he'd thanked her after offering to give her money. To her surprise Bethany answered her with the same factual tone she used for everything.
“You didn't blame them for what their daughter has done. If this becomes public, the scandal could ruin them socially and financially. By not blaming them, or even their daughter, you've functionally stated that you won't take this public.”
Peals nodded. “Good show that, too. Robert Vernor is one of the largest shipping magnates in the world. Destroying him could actually harm the world economy. Much better to avoid that if possible.”
The nurse brought some small sandwiches and tea for everyone, Gwen making sure that Bethany ate several and drank a cup of tea as well. The woman did it efficiently, staring off at the wall behind Gwen, to her right, while she chewed and swallowed more than a little mechanically.
As they ate, Gwen looked at everyone and asked what the next step was.
“Because, well, those SOBs have killed four people and stabbed me in the chest. I normally try to forgive and forget, but this time I think I'm taking it personally for some reason...”
Chapter five
The next day Doctor Schmidt surprised her by having Nurse Rogers bring her some clothing to wear and telling her that she could be discharged as soon as she'd cleaned up and dressed. This idea didn't feel as good to Gwen as she thought it might, once she realized that she didn't have anywhere to go in this world. An entire planet where she didn't have even a clue about fitting in.
It hit her all at once, a weight descended on her, nearly crushing her at first. She took a few deep breaths and straightened herself to her full height as she stood next to the bed. She noticed suddenly that she was a good bit taller than she used to be, nearly a foot, maybe more. Five-six? She looked down, seeing well-proportioned limbs and a flat stomach, her body carrying a normal appearance under the plain white hospital gown.
After a few minutes, the nurse smiling at her encouragingly and selecting an outfit for her to wear out of some clothes that had come over night, she found herself led down the hallway to the showers. In the hall, decorated in cool blues and rich wood, polished to shining, she noticed that all the doors seemed to be well decorated with various carvings on the outside, flowers mainly with a few birds now and then, each door seemed to be unique, as if hand carved.
The shower room itself, which turned out to be at the end of the hall and around the corner to the left, baffled her at first and she had to have Rogers show her how to turn the water on. Most of it looked normal, tile floor, dark polished stone walls of marble, but the fixtures...
“Oh, is that different here then? You see the two indices here?” Pointing to a set of plates, built into the wall itself, recessed in a hole about two inches deep, they seemed to be made of copper or brass to her. “Just run your hand between them, from the inside out to turn the water on, and outside in to turn them off. The right side is cold water the left warm. Water, shoots out of the top there...” She pointed upward to a spigot about six and a half feet up.
Gwen smiled and thanked her, the woman turning away so that she could undress unobserved while still having someone there in case she needed help, she'd been informed. Probably just normal procedure, Gwen figured, from the matter of fact, almost rote, way the nurse spoke about it.
The shower gave her some problems at first, until she discovered that she could pull her hand straight out from between the plates to set the temperature where she wanted. There was six inches between the copper pieces and it worked like some kind of sensor. Easy enough once she got the hang of it. After that the whole thing went normally enough. She could even get her back, thanks to a handy stick the nurse provided with a sponge on it.
The water, instead of being spread out through a normal shower head, just spilled from the spigot, like it would from an old fashioned kitchen sink or a garden hose, pounding her with a steady stream the whole time. Great water pressure but not very comfortable.
Looking down she saw that the stab wound had turned into a completely closed mass of scar tissue already, silvery and pink, smaller than she would have thought. They hadn't let her look at the wound before, seeming to think the idea would disturb her too much. She'd tried to assure them that seeing a knife sticking out of her had been the worst of it, but they didn't seem to believe her for some reason.
The breasts looked nice, she realized, the wound having missed the left breast nearly completely, being low and to the center, just barely catching the inside edge of it. Both breasts had a nice symmetry, which she hadn't had before, and hit a nice middle size, probably a C-cup. Her old breasts had been smaller, much so, cone shaped and asymmetrical, the right one, like her face, sticking out at an odd angle, the left being tinier than the right and a bit lumpy. These were still perky too, since Kather
ine had been a lot younger than she was, no sagging had taken place yet at all, not that she could tell. Ah, she reflected with a small smile, the difference between twenty-two and thirty-four.
No razors had been given to her to shave her legs or under her arms. The stubble showed her that Katherine Vernor had shaved recently, so people did that here. The hospital apparently didn't think it worth bothering with, so it probably wasn't of huge social importance. Not enough to trump practicality in a medical situation at least. She'd shaved her legs and under her arms before, but irregularly, since no one would see them. It had let her feel more human, more normal, so she'd done it anyway.
When she finished the nurse handed her a towel, not looking at her, so she could dry off in the shower area. She managed to get dressed without too much pain, the clothing that had been selected for her by the nurse seemed to be a long skirt and jacket, both in a light green, a baffling array of under things and a white blouse. The nurse had to help her into the clothes, and she wondered how she'd get them off by herself.