by Lewis Wolfe
Before leaving the room Jane said, “I will be back this afternoon. Maybe we can talk some more then.”
As soon as Jane departed Ellie woke up. Her pale blue eyes immediately shifted into a state of blind panic and her tired muscles fought against the straps that held her small body down.
From her almost paralyzed throat came a barely audible whisper. “I’m… not… your… chocolate milk….”
2
As soon as Jane stepped outside the hospital she looked for a bench to sit on. She found one not far to her left and walked toward it.
“I need a quick rest,” she informed Caleb as she sat down.
Jane leaned back and closed her eyes. Her head was exploding from the terrible stress she had built up over the previous night. It was the kind of headache she got whenever she strained her abilities too far, as if her brain protested against all the work she forced it to do.
She had spent the night fighting for Ellie’s life. The claws that had dug themselves into the girl’s brain were wild and vicious, but Jane had kept them at bay for long and desperate hours.
The terrible force that ravaged Brettville, however, was relentless, and it would only be a matter of time before it overpowered Jane. Not necessarily because it was stronger, but because it seemed to have a limitless supply of energy.
The only way out of this was to find the source. Where had the terrible power that once resided in the oak gone? Where was it hiding? And could it be beaten when she finally found it?
Jane wasn’t sure and, right now, she didn’t have the energy to figure it out.
It was entirely possible that she’d start to taste her own blood soon and the prospect worried her. The blood, she knew, didn’t come from her throat. It only came through her throat, as the natural canal to relieve the injuries her brain sustained. If she wasn’t careful it would go down the wrong pipe, causing her to choke on her own blood.
When she worked her hardest she literally squeezed her frontal lobes together, causing blood to flow from the friction. It was funny because they showed the phenomenon in movies and television shows from time to time, but as a very mild and modest nosebleed. The kind that looked just right on television.
Fuck. Jane wished she could get a delicate little nosebleed like that.
Maybe she could still find a way out of this. If she could relax in the privacy of her mental house and give her brain some rest, it wouldn’t be so bad.
Without opening her eyes she told Caleb, “I’m going to shut down for fifteen minutes or so. Don’t worry, I’ll wake up when I’m good to go.”
Jane could send herself to sleep whenever she wanted to. It wasn’t that hard to do if you had complete conscious control over your body. She needed that rest now. She needed to walk around in her mental house for a little bit, maybe take a hot shower and just pray to whatever God she knew didn’t exist that her brain could take the beating she had endured during the night.
Jane took a deep breath and counted down.
Five… four… three… two… one…. Goodnight.
She opened her eyes and found herself in the cool darkness of her mental house. All the lights were off, just the way she had left them, and a peaceful silence embraced her body. Soon that silence would make room for the giggles of the little girls that resided inside her head, but for now, she could walk through her house uninterrupted.
Jane took the flashlight that was always in her left pocket and turned it on. She preferred to walk through the darkness, focusing only on the details of her mind that she liked with the flashlight. Reality would come soon enough and with it the overabundance of thoughts and feelings, both her own and those of the people around her.
On her bare feet she started up the stairs and heard the faint laughter of the little girls. They had come out to play with her but she would have to disappoint them. Jane simply didn’t have the time right now.
Jane turned around and watched as the little girls tried to climb the stairs, impeded by the heavy lumps on their necks and shoulders. They always struggled so much, trying to maintain their balance but never quite succeeding.
Jane sat down on the last step of the stairs and waited until the seven girls had caught up with her. Two of them crawled up next to her while yet another knelt at her feet, playing with Jane’s bare toes. The other four surrounded her left and right and together they sat on the stairs for a bit.
Jane put down the flashlight and said, “I know you girls want to play, and I like playing with you a lot. But I’m in a hurry today so I won’t have much time. I’m just here to take a shower right now.”
The girl that played with her toes tried to speak, and Jane waited patiently for her to find her voice. It was difficult to talk when cancerous tumors ran rampant inside your throat.
“You… hot… shower?”
Jane smiled as she answered, “Yes. A nice hot shower. I really need one.”
The girls nodded as they understood. They weren’t selfish or greedy spirits that haunted Jane’s mind. They just wanted to be seen and to be interacted with. Life had given them so little in that way and all they could do was kindly ask for it now. Jane gave them a lot of attention and for that they were grateful. Perhaps they even loved her for it.
Satisfied, Jane stood up and left the little girls behind. She started walking along the hallway where she had previously seen the pale man from her window. Remembering his beauty still sent shivers down her spine. How could such an immaculate body house such a horrible entity?
She couldn’t think about that right now. Giving him too much attention, in her own home at that, gave him power over her that he shouldn’t have.
Jane arrived at a white door to her right. It stood in the far end of the hallway and was so bright that she didn’t need her flashlight to find it.
She opened the door and stepped inside the room. There she turned on the light for the first time, illuminating her small bathroom with a warm yellow light shining from the ceiling.
Jane could have made the room as big as she wanted it to be as there were no limits to the size of her mental house, as far as she knew. But she never wanted for very much and the few luxuries she allowed herself were perfectly fine in their intimacy. What was she going to do with a giant bathroom, anyway?
There were no mirrors in this bathroom because Jane wasn’t very fond of looking at herself. She disliked the delicacy of her childlike face that refused to grow up. She resented, even more, how her body had stopped growing before she could develop the curves other young women had.
It wasn’t fair, but then, her life had never been very fair to begin with. She was a freak of nature that had no real right to exist and defied the laws of evolution. Her ugly and dysfunctional body was merely a testament to that fact.
Jane undressed herself and tossed her clothes on the floor. They wouldn’t get wet simply because she didn’t allow them to get wet.
Then she walked toward the shower and turned it on. To her great dismay water refused to come out. Instead, the showerhead splashed blood in her face and a metallic aroma quickly dominated the bathroom.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It’s beginning. I’m too late!”
She turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to wipe the blood from her face. It was probably in her hair too, she realized.
With a deep breath Jane walked back to the door and turned off the light. She had to wake up now or she’d make a terrible mess.
She left the bathroom and stepped back into the hallway. As she did so she saw how a giant stream of blood had begun to flood her mental house. The awful substance already reached all the way to the last step of the stairs and filled the house with a scent of rot and decay.
In the distance Jane could hear the little girls giggling. They were probably swimming around in the blood, unaware of its true nature. What it really meant.
Jane knew what it meant. Her brain was bleeding.
“Have to wake up now. Can’t stay here. Fuck!”
&nbs
p; Five… four… . The stream of blood filled the hallway, embracing her naked ankles.
Three… two… . It reached all the way to her knees, gushing against her with a force that almost tipped her over.
One…. Wake the fuck up!
Jane opened her eyes and threw her body forward.
She tried to swallow it, she really did, but she couldn’t. When she gasped for air at the wrong moment the blood ran down her windpipe and threatened to drown her lungs.
With loud and violent spasms she coughed up the blood that came running from her brain, trying to raise a hand to appease Caleb in the process.
She couldn’t tell him not to worry. That she knew what it was and that it would pass. All she could do was cough, and wheeze, and curse the God she knew didn’t exist for this horrible torture.
3
Agent Bradford sat at a table in the corner of Sparky’s Diner. It was still early and, if he had paid attention, he could have appreciated the gentle sunlight coming through the large window to his right.
Instead, Agent Bradford was reading through the documents one of his colleagues had sent him on a man named Roger Wheeley. Who was Roger Wheeley? What had happened to the man to make him of any interest to his current work? Agent Bradford honestly didn’t know.
All Agent Bradford knew was that Jane Elring had sent him a message last night, or rather in the early morning at around three, asking him to pull the man’s records. His phone buzzing had woken him up and, worried something was wrong with his family, he had looked right away.
It had only been Jane at the ungodly hour, asking of him things that he didn’t rightfully understand and that he would have loved to ignore. But doing so would have meant going against his direct orders. Whether he liked it or not, his job was to facilitate the young woman.
So Agent Bradford had put in the request for Roger Wheeley’s files roughly fifteen minutes after Jane’s message, before going back to sleep.
Now he sat reading through those files while allowing his coffee to get cold and ignoring the beautiful day it was shaping up to be. What was it that Jane wanted to know about this guy? What did a man from Cleveland have to do with the things going on over here in Alabama?
The door to Sparky’s Diner opened and the two people Agent Bradford didn’t want to see stepped inside. Of course they immediately found him, too.
Agent Bradford watched as Jane and her bodyguard walked toward him. The girl looked like shit. Her skin was deathly pale and her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. Her blonde hair was a mess, dancing wildly on top of her head.
Her bodyguard looked a lot sharper, on edge almost. As if he was ready to strike down whatever stood in his way.
Agent Bradford knew that a man like Caleb could snap under pressure. He had done some digging on him and learned that he got kicked out of the army after going AWOL. In a way it made sense that Jane chose to employ him; a man with a frail mind was easily manipulated.
Men with frail minds could still pose a physical problem, though, and Agent Bradford was well aware that it might come to that. If he could avoid it, he would. A physical conflict didn’t serve him. In fact, it would only make his real job of keeping Jane in check more difficult.
It was Jane he had to watch out for, Agent Bradford told himself. She was pulling all the strings and she was the one with real power in this situation. Whether her fat oaf of a bodyguard understood that or not.
The unlikely pair sat down at his table and Agent Bradford reached inside his right pocket. It probably wouldn’t come to anything in here, but holding the button just made him feel more secure. Like he was on equal footing with her. She could walk around in his head all she liked; if he wanted her to stop, he could knock her right out cold.
Jane sighed as she dropped her head slightly, clenching her hair with both hands. She looked awfully frustrated.
It was Caleb who said, “She can’t talk right now. She had some kind of attack or something.”
“Oh. With the blood?”
“Yeah. She coughed up a fair amount.”
“Where was it? Did people see?”
“A few, yeah. It was outside the hospital.”
Agent Bradford shook his head. It would probably be alright this time, but she knew she shouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention to herself. This was exactly what he meant. The girl wasn’t cut out for this stuff. She didn’t have the self-control needed to go along with the abilities she possessed.
Caleb said, “Anyway, she wants me to ask if you got her message last night.”
Briefly Agent Bradford wondered how Caleb knew what she wanted if she couldn’t speak. Then he realized she must have communicated it directly to him, the same way she had done in all those research trials when she steered blindfolded people through the most elaborate mazes.
This meant that Caleb knew what she was. What she could do. A year ago that would have been a transgression that could have killed her, but things had changed. Dr. Greer was adamant they would “observe her integration in society” and this left her free, in part, to build relationships with new people. Agent Bradford thought the doctor was an idiot, even if he was also a genius.
He wondered how Caleb felt about having a stranger’s voice walking through his head. Turning out commands that were completely foreign and unrelatable. If it bothered the bodyguard, he didn’t show it right now.
Agent Bradford hated it. The strange sensation of another person inside his head. Whispering things to him that he couldn’t understand or that made him feel uncomfortable about himself. He had told the girl never to do it again and she had listened to him. He didn’t even have to threaten her with the button on that one.
Caleb repeated, “So did you? Get her message?”
Realizing Caleb was only the translator in all of this, Agent Bradford steered his eyes toward the exhausted girl in front of him.
“I got your message just fine. Pretty shitty time to send it. You woke me up. Had me thinking something was going on with my family.”
Jane just blinked her tired, red eyes.
Agent Bradford could never read her face to know what she was really feeling, but at least she didn’t bother with the creepy smiles this time.
“I pulled the man’s files. Roger Wheeley? I got them for you. I’m reading through them to see if I have to redact anything. Then I’ll send it all your way.”
A waitress with curly red hair approached the table and Agent Bradford found himself looking at her slightly longer than was appropriate. She reminded him of Becky. Sweet Becky, who was alone with their kids now. Always just a little too kind, a little too soft.
In that moment, Agent Bradford dreaded going home. Home to the wife he didn’t really like anymore after all these years. Home to the kids he didn’t understand. Here in Brettville he knew what his life was supposed to be like. He had a well-defined purpose here and he could see it through. At home he felt lost and alone. It was the worst feeling to be alone in a group of people that you were obligated to love.
The waitress looked down at the table with a genuine, warm smile. Her eyes grew slightly when she saw the girl’s red eyes looking back at her.
“Sweetheart, are you alright? You look like you might be sick.”
Agent Bradford watched as Jane Elring formed one of those smiles she was always practicing. It was supposed to be a gentle one, warm and with just that small hint of gratitude. Thank you for your concern.
Caleb said, “She’s feeling a little under the weather. Has a sore throat too.”
Jane nodded.
“Oh dear! A nice cup of tea for you, then, with some honey in it. It will clear that throat right up.”
Agent Bradford wondered what honey mixed with blood tasted like. Surely Jane still carried the aftertaste of her attack in her mouth. Maybe she was even still bleeding a little bit.
The waitress asked, looking at Caleb, “What can I get you?”
“Just a cup of coffee, please.”
&nb
sp; The waitress left their table and Agent Bradford redirected his attention to Caleb. The man did not avoid his stare. He couldn’t, Agent Bradford knew. Their conflict in Dr. Stewart’s office was still fresh and looking away would be an expression of weakness now.
“She has shown you what she really is?” he asked.
Caleb nodded.
“How much do you know?”
“I know enough.”
Agent Bradford shook his head. There was no such thing as knowing enough about Jane Elring. Knowing enough meant that you felt safe with her. You were never safe with her.
“There are certain rules to play by,” Agent Bradford told Caleb. “The things you know, you can’t tell anybody. Nobody would believe you anyway, but doing so is a capital offense all the same.”
Caleb said nothing.
“So you see what she has done? She has made you her partner in crime. And you can’t say shit about it, or we might fuck you for betraying your country. Nice of her, isn’t it?”
Again Caleb didn’t reply.
“Yeah, she’s great that way. Not at all manipulative or selfish. Is she talking to you yet? You know, inside your head?”
Jane’s tired head sank back into her hands.
Agent Bradford knew that she couldn’t speak to defend herself and that she didn’t have to speak in order to get her message across. But what could she really say in her defense? They both knew she wasn’t a good person.
Caleb cleared his throat and then he spoke. “You stink of fear, Agent Bradford. I know the scent, and I can smell it on you.”
It was Agent Bradford’s turn to stay quiet.
“Fear makes you do stupid shit. It makes you misread situations and needlessly stresses your body. Like right now,” Caleb said.
“Right now?”
“Yeah, with that tense arm going all the way down to your pocket. What are you holding, Agent Bradford? What do you think will save you? Why do you think you need to be saved?”
Agent Bradford shook his head. This big dumb nigger was trying to tell him what to think? What to feel? Who was he to talk? He fucking knew shit!
“Think about what her existence means, Caleb. She can read minds. She hears everything. Do you know the risks that poses to national security? Somebody that knows everything can destroy anything. When she’s inside your head, she can fucking kill you with the right word said at exactly the right time.”