Mackland ached for a drink—any kind of drink. While he'd been living his 'cushy' life—there were ghosts, spirits, demons, werewolves, and other entities that he'd thought of as science-fiction roaming around the world. Evil truly existed.
He'd listened when Missouri put it all on the line, detailing everything from the potential dangers of his abilities to a secret society that protected man from the supernatural. At the end of it, it had shaken him so badly, he needed to lie down. Missouri said that she understood and left him to rest.
She'd also indicated that if his control wavered again—the secret society, this "Brotherhood" would have no choice but to keep him from hurting anyone. It left him feeling like a monster – a freak of nature that needed to be hunted down.
He did not know what he was capable of—Missouri suggested that the telekinesis was only a small part of his abilities. She'd 'read' him and told him of the psychometric and slightly telepathic tendencies she'd found in him. It seemed that he not only had the ability to move things with his mind, but he could find people by handing objects, and read minds in a few individuals.
It was overwhelming.
So overwhelming, in fact, that he was terrified of being alone with his thoughts. Mac looked at the phone next to his bed, his eyes filled with tears and he was ashamed to let them trail down his face. He had no one to call. Not one single friend that he could trust with this information. He sobbed softly, hands covering his face so as not to bother the nursing staff…
After the emotional release, Mackland swallowed at the lump in his throat and called the one person he discovered that he could trust. "Dad? I need you. Could you please come?"
Mackland swore that his father must've called for a police escort to the hospital; he was there within fifteen minutes. Cullen rushed into his hospital room, "Mackland? Are you alright, son?"
"I need to get out of here, Dad. It's time. I just—I need your help. I can't stay here anymore." He'd made the decision shortly before his father's arrival; there was no way that he would stay—not after he'd nearly killed Alvin. Missouri was right—he needed to train his new abilities. Like learning how to speak and walk again, it was a trait he needed to exercise; he just needed a secluded area to practice without worrying if he would hurt anyone.
Cullen looked shocked, "Son, I heard about the earthquake and that nurse that risked his life to get you out. It wasn't your fault. The man will be fine—there's no need to leave. You're doing so well. The doctors tell me that soon, you won't need the canes. Your speech is coming along as well. I don't even notice the slight hesitation anymore."
Mac shook his head, "No, it's not about that. Something has come up. I need some space to think and work things out in my mind."
Cullen stared at him intently, "What is all of this about, Mackland? I don't understand. Talk to me, son."
There were so many things running through his mind that it was hard to choose which one to start with. Rebecca's betrayal, his abilities, the destruction he'd caused, and the person he'd hurt. There was a part of him that was terrified to speak about any of it aloud; it would make it real. The other part of him was just afraid that his father would abandon him if he found out he was a freak.
"I can't explain it. I just know that I need to leave this hospital. Now." Mac took in a breath and lifted his legs out of the bed. He reached for his canes and gently levered himself onto his feet. His father stood by his side awkwardly. He was somewhat steady as he made his way across the room and to the drawers that housed his clothes. A thick plastic bag, provided by the hospital, was hanging from a hook by the cabinet and he quickly made use of it. The struggle to balance on the canes and to pack a bag was great. Cullen quickly stepped forward to assist him. The bag was taken from his hands and he was steadied with a hand against his back.
Cullen dropped the bag to the floor and turned his son gently to face him. "Mackland, calm down now. Everything is going to be alright, son. Now, please… talk to me." Cullen's face was so earnest that Mackland believed him and felt comforted.
His father led them to the nearest chairs and sat them both down. Mac was weary. He folded himself in the chair, slumping in misery. He closed his eyes as if he were in pain and wished for a time machine. He felt his ability bubbling in his mind and started to panic. Things in the room vibrated, he could feel the stream building in intensity. He moaned and cried out, his hands fisting his hair to keep it in control. He could hear Cullen in the background—calling his name in his concern. It wouldn't take long for the river to overflow.
"I barely leave you for a few hours, Dr. Ames. And here you are, getting yourself in trouble again!" Missouri yelled at him. "What did I tell you? Do you want me to hit you with my purse?" When he was able to look up, he found that she wasn't alone; Dr. Reese trailed behind her.
She walked over to the bed and placed a box-like device next to him. It was like a switch had been flicked. The vibrations stopped, but his head throbbed in pain. Whatever that device was, it was keeping him from releasing the mental explosion.
His father looked at the woman with suspicion, but as etiquette dictated, he stood up to introduce himself. "I'm sorry, I haven't had the pleasure of your acquaintance. My name is Cullen Ames," he nodded towards his son, "Mackland's father."
Missouri smiled at Cullen and Mac's mouth dropped open. He hadn't seen a kind look from her since their initial conversation, yet now, she was pleasant towards his father. They shook hands, before allowing Dr. Reese to do the same.
Reese spoke, "Mac, I hope you don't mind the intrusion. I'm not sure if you remember our earlier conversation, but I met this young woman during my studies. She's incredible at what she does, and I believe her tutelage would be incredibly beneficial to you. I know what happened the day of the 'earthquake'; She says she has resources and experiences that I do not. I think that it would be best to listen to her. Especially in light of what was about to happen a few minutes ago."
Mac was grateful that Gideon had left it vague, as to not worry his father. He stared at the psychiatrist, judging him to be truthful in having his best interests at heart. If it weren't for them walking into the room, he might have hurt or killed his father. The nightmare of his father lying on the ground covered in blood would give him nightmares for weeks if he allowed it.
"I need to get out of here." Mac pleaded.
Reese looked at Missouri and she nodded. Gideon spoke softly, walking over to kneel by his chair to look him in the eyes. "Mac, listen—we're going to help you. There are people out there who have been through what you're going through, and they are willing to speak with you. It's going to be alright." The man patted the pale doctor's hand. "Why doesn't Missouri help you back to bed? You can rest for a bit while your father and I make arrangements. I think you're right about needing to leave the hospital. You've made incredible progress; we can arrange for out-patient home therapy for you."
Gideon stood up and motioned to his father. He was gently guiding the older man to his office, leaving Mac with the icy woman who seemed to have a problem with him. He waved a hand towards the box, "What is it?"
Missouri sat in the chair that Cullen had vacated. She took in a breath, huffing as she answered, "It's called an Elemental Trap. It's a feedback device for psychics. It blocks a person from using their abilities—a dampener. If they try, they'll get a shock. My father designed them." She said it with pride.
"You've gotten yourself into quite a mess, Ames. You can't just allow your emotions to overtake you—especially while you're still learning to restrain your abilities." She was scolding him, like a mother to a child.
His first thought was to deny it, to argue that he did have emotional control—but the events as of late proved that a lie. "What do I need to do?"
"#1. Pack a bag. #2. Get yourself on your feet –the faster, the better. One of the hunters in the Brotherhood has offered his home to you. The Guardian has given his permission to allow you to study with me—James Murphy is going to assist and shelter you." Missouri stated matter-of-factly as if his life had been planned out for him.
"Explain to me again, who is this Guardian?" Mac still felt the need to get as much information as possible before making a decision.
"That information is need-to-know. You don't. Any other questions?" She glared at him, daring him to ask her another question
"Where are we going?" He smirked at her, now becoming used to her glowering face.
"New Haven, Kentucky." She did not give him another opportunity to question her. Missouri just left him sitting there gazing at the little black box keeping him sane.