Title: Charlotte's Web (Chapter 51)
Rating: M for graphic violence and language
Fandom: The Mentalist
Summary: Patrick Jane has lived his life obsessed with the capture of Red John ever since finding his beloved wife and daughter slain by the maniac's hand. Now, 10 years to the day after that horrific night, a young woman appears in Patrick's life, someone who threatens to destroy everything his life has become in the interim… if not his sanity, itself.
Author's Note: I know the last chapter was very short, and I am going camping soon so wanted to get this out. The use of a bluebird in the sense I used Buzz could be seen as both hopeful or sinister. If you guys know about the MK ultra program that started in Canada in the 50s and was funded by the CIA (there is a movie on youtube called "The Sleep Room" from the late 90s about it, though it was sugar-coated for television) and you go down that rabbit hole so to speak, well... there was an offshoot of MK ultra (the roots of which lead back to Nazi doctors "experimenting" on torture victims in world war 2) called "Project Bluebird" which was, essentially, the intentional creation, in psychiatric victims, of what used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder and is now called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Throughtout this novel I hint that Red John himself is part of a larger group of killers without getting into it too much. I also hint that Jane himself was exposed to similar elements, though not to the same extent. I plan to start working on a horror novel that has been bouncing around in my head since I have been 10 years of age which also deals with similar themes. If you would like to read more about Project Bluebird there is a nifty little article online you can read called:
"BLUEBIRD
Deliberate Creation of Multiple
Personality by Psychiatrists
By Colin A. Ross MD"
So, is Buzz, then, Good or Bad? I think he might have been created through severe trauma, but my personal take is that he isn't bad, that Charlie's own inner strength or soul or whatever you want to call that aspect of a person that ultimately submits to horror and becomes a monster or fights till the very end, the part of us that has "fee will", that part of her has lent Buzz- whose name is a reference to electroshock therapy many victims of BLUEBIRD have been tortured with- a certain kindness that has shaped his personality. Are aspects of Buzz shaped by Charlotte's memories of her father as a little kid? I'll let you guys decide. Is Buzz a real, metaphysical entity "summoned" to intervene and calm a desperate child's mind? Is he a creation of Charlotte's, a fantasy, who has now, impossibly, taken on a life of his own? Something else we can't really describe or understand in words? Again, I leave that up to you guys. I like Buzz, and he ultimately exists in Charlotte's life for her own good, and to keep her emotionally and spiritually safe.
We're getting close to the end, now. I hope you guys like what I have in store. If you would like to read my independent horror novel as I work on it shoot me a private message, as it won't be on fanfic dot net. If I manage to get it published, I will include your name in the thanks.
I hope you guys like the ending I have planned. I am taking a risk here, but what the hell, right? What is life, without risk? And now, on with the story...
Wednesday, December 25th, 2013 6:35 pm
A month (or so) later...
Life was becoming more and more bearable each day. A new year had come, and with it, a new sense of hope, of starting over. Jane had sold the old Malibu beach home for far more than he has purchased it for, and rented out a 2 bedroom apartment with an office near the Sacramento CBI office and a short drive from Lisbon's. Lisbon had spent Christmas with Patrick and Charlotte, and for Charlotte the experience was almost as surreal as a 4 foot bluebird.
There'd be a large tree in the living room, and stockings nailed over the electric fireplace from- of all places- one of those geek stores online that specialized in making retro themed products.
Jane had asked Charlotte what sort of Christmas "theme" she wanted the first week of December and she'd thought for a few minutes about her childhood. She wanted something new, something that wouldn't remind her of her deceased mother, something that wouldn't be too Victorian and elegant, because that would bring back memories of Red John. Finally, she thought of sitting next to her Dad as a little girl, maybe three, watching the original Star Wars trilogy and throwing popcorn at the screen whenever Darth Vader or one of the "bad guys" showed up and said "Star Wars?"
So the entire apartment had been done up in Star Wars Christmas flair. There was a Yoda tree topper, and the stockings were Star Wars themed (Yoda for Jane, C-3P0 for Lisbon and Wicket the Ewok for Charlotte). One night Lisbon had come over to help decorate the tree, and they'd strung popcorn on thread and put on 1950s style bubble lights, Star Wars decorations, tinsel. It was pure kitsch.
Jane had done his best to make the apartment warm and appealing. Blankets and colorful throw pills on both large sofas, framed photos of him, Lisbon and Charlie (as well as a few baby photos of each of them, and a few of Charlie and Jane when Charlie was a small child) sitting on the mantle and hanging from the walls. There'd been a Star Wars advent calendar, and plates of gingerbread and cookies, Christmas music and shopping trips. Lisbon had taken her shopping and she'd got her Dad a Star Wars themed house coat and character slippers with giant Yoda faces on them, as a joke, and a framed poem she'd written at the age of 10, in a very dark place, inspired by Buzz. The poem read as such:
We aren't the darkness in the void,
We have no control over that which attacks first,
and sometimes guilt is just another weapon of the devils,
and needs to be dropped-
but if you want it bad enough,
you can keep the small pilot light in your soul
burning blue
and like a pilot in a tiny plane
in a storm
sometimes you can find your way home. - Charlotte, Age 10
She'd thought about typing the original poem out on nicer paper, but Lisbon had suggested she frame the original poem written in the back of a ruled notebook, complete with tear stains and what looked like chocolate smudges, and she had. And Jane had looked at the poem after unwrapping it, wearing his Chewbacca house coat and Yoda slippers and staring at the words with an awed, touched look on his face.
Then he had taken Charlie into his arms and hugged her for what felt like half an hour but was probably closer to two or three minutes.
Lisbon had gotten Jane a day planner with baby sloths on it, and Jane had laughed and Charlie suspected there was maybe some inside joke going on there. She'd also gotten both Jane and his impossible daughter a scrapbook kit each with the original scrapbook, extra plastic pages, an assortment of papers, stickers, pens and a gift certificate to the local art and crafts store.
Jane got Lisbon a crystal prism for her apartment and a pink Himalayan salt lamp and a gift certificate for quite a few back massages and spa treatments and Lisbon laughed a little bit too hard and too long when she say the gift certificates, until Charlotte had wandered back into the kitchen and refilled Lisbon's eggnog glass. She'd been drinking eggnog with just a "touch" of rum and Charlie had poured a little bit more rum into the second glass than Lisbon had put in the first, but hell, she needed it. They were relaxing.
Lisbon had gotten Charlotte a Polaroid snap instant camera and extra film for it, a pair of screen-printed Pajamas with a cat shooting lasers out of its eyes surfing through outerspace on a piece of pizza and a 100 dollar gift certificate to Pet Smart. Charlotte had looked at the Pet Smart certificate, confused... and then it had been time to open the presents from her father and from "Santa". The living room was crammed with presents.
In one box was a framed photograph of "Grumpy Gus" looking like a right grumpy asshole. There was a piece of paper in the box with an explanation that Grump Gus had been found wandering around stores in Mexico a few miles from where the Chicken Man's home had been, and everyone had known whose goat he had been and had refused to slaughter him because of the social taboo of killing a dead shaman's goat. Jane had, miraculously, been able to buy Grumpy Gus and fly him to an animal sanctuary called "Happy Farm" in Southern California, and there was a note that they could all drive down there in a few months and "visit" Grump Gus. There was also a DVD disc in a plastic case and the words "Grumpy Gus/Happy Farm/December 2013" written on them in sharpie marker.
For 30 hilarious minutes Jane, Lisbon and Charlotte watched home video of Gus on the sanctuary, staring madly at the cameras, head-butting the people trying to feed him, running and ramming into the side of a poor ancient golden lab who looked a bit stunned and confused. There were other goats there, too, a few cows, some chickens, some rabbits, a handful of horses and a large collection of "unwanted" feral cats in an outdoor enclosure sitting like feline royalty on cat trees and hammocks.
The video creator could be heard saying that because Gus had such a "strong" personality, he wasn't fit for most visitors, and he had been moved to a large enclosure with other "troubled" animals to settle down and enjoy the California life in relative peace. The last images of Gus were of him greedily wolfing down assorted pieces of fruit from a little plate and finally screaming his goat bleats and trying to ram the camera with a piece of apple stuck to his face.
There was a moment of blackness on the screen and then a short "update". Apparently a boxer puppy named "Muhammad Ali" had been born without his front legs and had been saved from euthanasia by the farm and Grumpy Gus had taken a liking to the dog. There were a series of photographs of Grumpy Gus sitting on hay with the little puppy sleeping soundly, body pressed up to Grumpy Gus's warm stomach.
Grumpy Gus didn't look like such an asshole in these photos, and in some his head was actually cocked to the side and he had an honest to God goat-smile plastered on his face. Charlotte laughed until tears came to her eyes at the photos.
Then it had been time to open the other presents... a bunch of young adult novels and a barnes and noble gift card, a diary with a lock and key and unicorns on the front, a printed IOU from Jane that if she wanted to, he would pay for driving classes for her and teach her to drive and maybe even pay for a car, an electric bicycle that looked like it cost a pretty penny, a Playstation 4 and a large collection of games for it, a Wii U with an equal number of games, 500 dollars in cash in an envelope, an expensive video camera with extra SD cards, some board games and card games (Risk, a large collection of Pokemon stuff, Scrabble and a Go board), black Converse hightop sneakers with neon green laces, a really cool black leather jacket, a collection of eye shadows and lip glosses in candy flavours, a land-yacht long board and finally a large crossbow with "arrows". She'd been watching The Walking Dead for a few weeks with her father on netflix and had lamented that he wouldn't let her have a gun for "protection" against Red John's eyes (they both knew they were still out there!), and said a few times how "cool" Daryl Dixon was. So now this. A real, expensive, deadly crossbow.
"We can go shoot it somewhere when the weather warms up," Jane said amiably, and Charlotte just stared at the weapon with huge eyes and a growing grin. Lisbon looked a bit displeasing.
"You're not to shoot it in the house, Charlie," Jane said then, with a touch of a smile on his lips. "The crossbow is an outdoor toy."
"That's not a toy..." Lisbon started, but Charlie was already up, hugging her father.
"I'm serious, though. You only shoot it when we're in a designated area. Don't make me regret this."
"Or if I get attacked by one of Red John's eyes..."
Jane nodded sadly.
When they'd moved into the apartment there had been a trap door in the ceiling leading up to a small attic area for "storage". Jane now lead her to the attic and pulled the string down... they went up.
It had been decorated and the few boxes that had been up there were gone. There was a flatscreen TV now, a small hide-a-bed couch, some bookshelves and a mini fridge.
"I have my office, and now you have your's," Jane said, smiling and Charlotte goggled and looked around, amazed.
"Oh, one last present from Santa," Jane said after a long moment.
"There's more?" Charlie said, surprised. Lisbon was grinning now, too. The three of them went back down the narrow little stairs and let what Charlie called "the trap door" go back up and they went back into the small living room.
Jane went into the kitchen and got himself a cup of tea and handed another mug full of hot chocolate and egg nog to Charlie. She looked up as Lisbon came back into the room, pushing a large box wrapped in bright red and green striped paper.
She pushed the box over to where Charlotte was sitting on the couch and looked at the girl with smiling eyes.
"Merry Christmas, from both of us," Lisbon said, grinning. Charlotte glanced over at her father. It was obvious this was something special.
She opened the box and before she could tug up one of the cardboard flaps something small and warm was jumping on her and making happy yelping noises. Charlotte stared, stunned, and then broke out laughing.
A puppy! Lisbon and Patrick had gotten her a puppy!
And not just any puppy at that!
This looked to be a purebred pitbull puppy, the dog breed Charlotte had told her dog on quite a few occasions was the most protective of all the dog breeds.
Charlotte picked the puppy up and squealed with delight. He wriggled and smiled at her, excited to be out of his box. She hugged the dog to her face, kissed him repeatedly. There was a flash as Jane took a photo with his camera, and when Charlie looked back up she could see that Lisbon was recording the meeting with the new videocamera she'd been gifted with earlier.
"Thank you so much, you guys!" Charlotte breathed, and kissed the puppy again.
The dog was a pale silvery brown colour, with pale grey blue eyes , white paws, a white throat and belly and a white star on the middle of his forehead.
"They call that colour 'blue fawn with blue nose'," Jane said, smiling. "He seemed to be the most playful and affectionate dog they had."
Charlotte just nodded and continued to cuddle her new puppy. His ears were long and floppy, which Charlotte liked, and his tail wasn't docked.
"Where did you get him?" She finally asked, as the puppy jumped around in her lap.
"A kill shelter near LA," Jane said, smiling. "They got a bunch of them in and I knew you'd appreciate a rescue. I had him flown up to us."
"Oh, thank you!" Charlotte burst out, and got up, ran over to Jane and hugged him fiercely until he broke out laughing, then hugged the stuffing out of Lisbon while Jane picked up the video camera and continued to record.
Finally Jane asked: "So... what do you think you're going to call this little guy?"
Charlotte thought about it for a while. She thought of her life of fighting just to survive, and this puppy's early start in life, facing euthanasia in a high-kill shelter. Puppies tended to be adopted quickly, but people still had reservations about pitbulls, even though most of them were loving and affectionate. She thought of watching The Walking Dead with her father and the rush of fear she felt as the zombies closed in, the sense of triumph when Rick or Daryl or Andrea shot one or smashed an axe through its head. The zombies on the show had become symbolic for the horrors of her past, the people who wouldn't... or couldn't... help her, the panic and despair and grief, and various aspects of Red John himself. She thought of Daryl Dixon, and her new crossbow that her father had gotten her to feel safe, even if he wouldn't budge on the gun issue. Guns, he had said, were tricky and you could forget they were loaded or that the safety was off. Crossbows were either loaded or not, and the difference was obvious at a glance.
"How about Dixon?" she asked Lisbon and Jane, looking from one to the other and back again.
"He's your puppy," Jane said, smiling. "Personally, I would have gotten a cat. Or if forced to chose a dog, maybe one of those little maltese things..."
"Oh, thank you!" Charlotte squealed again. As far as she knew, they lived in a no-pets building. Jane had obviously managed to work something out with the landlord. He was good at those kinds of interactions.
"He has to be on a leash if he leaves the apartment, and in the elevator," Jane said easily.
"But I can keep him, right?"
"You can keep him," Jane said confidently. "I got him registered as a therapy dog for you."
She'd gotten a formal diagnosis of PTSD and panic disorder a month ago. She had spoken to a psychiatrist Jane had seen when he'd been "in a very dark place" over Skype and that had been that. Her father know brought out a little jacket.
"This is for... Dixon... "
It was a royal blue jacket that would go around Dixon's chest and back. It had a patch on it which read "Service Dog. Not a Pet" some patch from a place called "Assistance Dogs of America". Jane also had a leather collar with a dog registration tag on it.
"We can get a tag with his name and our phone number on it later," Jane said. "Oh, and this is for you wallet."
He handed her a laminated card with the heading "Assistance Dogs of America". There was a grainy photograph of her puppy "smiling", a place for his name (his name was listed as "Rocky", which had been his name at the shelter, and they would get a replacement card when Dixon got older with a new photo and his new name), his breed (American Pit Bull Terrier), a spot for the state he was licensed in (California) and something called "Reg No." which Charlotte guessed stood for "Registation number", which was "OSDR 157235". The issue date only listed a year (2013) and in bold, block letters was the demand "PUBLIC ACCESS AND ENTRY REQUIRED BY LAW".
"That means you can take Dixon anywhere," Jane said, tapping the block letters.
"Even the movie theater?"
"If you want," Jane said, smiling.
"Even 7-11?"
"Anywhere you want, kiddo," Jane said, still smiling. He picked up his cup of cooling tea and took a long, loud, happy slurp. Lisbon sat watching the scene, smiling.
"What do you say we go to Petsmart tomorrow for the boxing day sales and get him his toys and bed and stuff?"
Charlie nodded eagerly.
"Does he have food for today?" Charlotte asked, still petting Dixon. The TV was on, a channel showing kids in a church singing Christmas songs. Right now they were singing "We Three Kings of Orient Are". Charlotte reached forward and grabbed a piece of chewy gingerbread off a plate and fed it to her puppy as he wolfed it down and jumped around on the sofa.
Later, the three of them took turns playing Mario Kart 8 on the Wii U and ordered in Chinese food around 8 while they watched "A Christmas story" and ate egg rolls and egg foo yung and chicken balls with lemon sauce and deep fried prawns and fried rice. They finished the meal with a scoop each of green tea ice cream and a fortune cookie, and laughed at the poor English wording in each of the cookies. Lisbon's read: "Love for today Love makes hearts strong and wonder for you". Jane's read: "Big mission accomplishes soul power for the ages" and Charlotte almost choked on her egg roll as Jane read it out, feigning conviction. Charlotte's read: "Distant love you seek in work comes to you when hearts open of flower" and that was the final straw and she had to get a Pepsi from the fridge and drink it slowly till the bulge of stuck food in her esophagus went down.
There was a fourth fortune cookie, for Dixon. Charlie broke it open and handed it to her father before dissolving into another fit of giggles. The fortune read:
"Strong lions in business make the money that moves the mountain of fate".
"Where did they get the writers for these things?" Lisbon smiled, and popped another deep fried prawn into her mouth. "Do you think these are intentionally bad?"
"I really don't think so," Jane said, grinning. They all agreed they'd have to order from that Chinese place again (a little hole in the wall called "Dragon Fortune Palace").
Around 9:30 pm a storm began to brew, and the skies pelted freezing rain against the windows. Jane turned the heat up and they found another christmas movie to watch- Home Alone, and settled into it with a bowl of popcorn. Dixon wandered around the living room with his eager puppy curiosity, sniffed the puppy pee pad Jane had carefully laid out for him in the hall and did his business. Jane cleaned it up because Charlotte was asleep by then.
It had been a great Christmas. Surreal in its sense of hope and possibilities.
But the storm brewing didn't end with freezing rain and hail, and no amount of indoor heating and netflix would keep the cold that came with it away...
Outside the happy home, a predator lurked. It moved stealthily under the aegis of full blown night, in and out of the shadows of the parking lot and the shrubbery, swift and soundless, as if it might have been a shadow itself, a figment of the imagination.
But it was not a shadow, and in its skull sat two baleful eyes, gleaming in the darkness with an intensity perhaps only rivaled by the fire in a jack o lantern's gaze. The predator was pissed off, full of an insatiable need for the hunt and for screams, full of psychic need and deepening hunger.
About the same time the beast was hunting and lurking in the shadows, a small car pulled into the parking lot, the back exhaust pipe dragging on the cement, kicking up sparks. A couple in their mid-twenties got out, drunk and laughing, falling over each other and stumbling in the dark.
The woman turned and peered into the dark, brow furrowing.
"Is somebody there?" She asked the night and the shadows that lived within it, and the predator shifted and came forward into what little light the street lamps threw on it, a smile on its face.
"Oh," the woman laughed, and looked relieved. "Mr. Jane! You scared me for a moment!"
"That's a pity," the beast said stolidly.
There was a gravid pause.
"So... did she like the puppy?"
"Puppy?" the wolf said, hungrily, momentarily confused.
"Yeah.. the pit bull?"
"Oh! Right. Yes... she was most delighted. Of course... a pit bull. Of course."
"Well," the young woman said looking a bit uneasy. "Have a Merry Christmas, then." And she stumbled off, helped by her boyfriend, and the laughter resumed.
The monster with the human mask smiled widely as they left, and licked his lips, and moved back into its home of shadows to watch and wait and plan.