All characters are the property of SNK/Playmore. I don't own them, the video games or the anime.
Chapter Two:The Briefcase
Several hours later, Melanie still did not have the urge to run away, despite the fact that she was bored out of her skull as Joan worked things out with the police department, making Melanie's juvenile charges disappear, and also arranging to take the girl for the night. Tomorrow, there would be a more formal custody hearing in front of a judge. The fact that Joan somehow arranged that so quickly earned her some slight admiration from Melanie. Unlike most of the adults she'd met, Ms. Landy clearly knew how to get things done.
Case in point, after Melanie had been sitting in the detective's office for about an hour, looking bored while Joan made arrangements with Rabin, the matriarch happened to glance over at the barefoot girl and ask her: "Melanie, dear, has anyone fed you since you got here?"
"No, ma'am," Melanie replied.
Joan turned her eyes back to Rabin, her gaze seeming to pierce his skull. "Explain."
The detective was definitely taken aback. "Well, we've been busy, as you can see, and..."
"Use your head, detective," Joan snapped in a tone suggesting that Rabin was a total idiot for not already knowing what she was saying. "You pick up a girl trying to break into a supermarket because she wants food, and it sounds like she had none in her house. The poor child is obviously starving." Again, she turned towards Melanie, who was clearly enjoying the show. "Melanie, when did you last eat something?"
"Uh, yesterday afternoon, ma'am."
"And what was it?"
"Um... pack of sugar and some peanut butter smeared on a playing card." A half-truth. Melanie had eaten peanut butter, just not off a card, but she decided it would be more fun to twist the knife for her oppressor.
The older woman clenched her teeth, blew out a hissing breath of exasperation. "And you didn't even think to feed her, detective?"
"Well, we... don't have a cafeteria here," Rabin tried to explain, though he was withering under both Joan's gaze, and the look of obvious pleasure from Melanie.
"Well, you must have something," Joan insisted.
"Uh... we've got vending machines in the break rooms."
Another exasperated breath. "Fine." Joan pulled a sizable wad of cash from one of the pockets in her coat, drew out five singles, and handed them to the raggedly-dressed girl. "Here, sweetheart. Go get yourself something from the vending machines. Detective, is there an officer who can escort her? You and I still have work to do."
Rabin rolled his eyes, but in the end, he gestured to a patrolman he saw milling about through the window that looked out into the hallway. The man took Melanie to the nearest break room, where she purchased a bag of Andy Capp hot fries, a Snickers bar, and a can of Dr. Pepper. She actually let the officer take her back to Rabin's office afterwards, because Joan had just become the coolest adult she'd ever met in her life.
Finally, it was close to ten at night, and both Joan Landy and Melanie were seated in the back of a patrol car, with a uniformed officer driving them to the hotel where Joan was staying. Melanie had needed to sign for her things (the change, lighter, and Swiss Army knife) when they were returned to her, and Joan noticed with some curiosity that she signed simply with a letter M.
When they got to the hotel, Joan asked the concierge in the lobby if she had any messages, and was told there were none. So she led Melanie to the elevator, and once inside, slipped her room keycard into a slot and pressed the button for the penthouse. Once again, Melanie found herself feeling impressed. She'd never met a grown-up like this, one who seemed so important, and in control, and who actually seemed to give a damn about Melanie. Until Melanie knew why, she wouldn't come close to trusting the older woman, but right now staying with her seemed like the best way to survive. The girl became even more impressed when they got to the top floor and Joan opened the door to her suite, which was as big as at least one of the foster homes Melanie had run away from.
"Now, then, Melanie," Joan said after she shut the door. "I'm sure you're probably tired. But you need a bath before bed."
For the first time since meeting Joan, Melanie felt an urge to run away. Until Joan led her into the bathroom, and she saw the tub, which was the largest she'd ever seen in her life, and was also lined with several plastic nozzles on its polished porcelain walls.
Joan began to run the water. "Have you ever been in a jacuzzi tub, dear?"
"Uh, no, ma'am," Melanie answered.
"Well, I know children your age hate baths, but you might actually enjoy this." It took a while to fill to the right level, but once there was enough water, Joan turned on the jets, and told Melanie to get in when she was ready, and leave her dirty clothes by the door. The older woman then left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
When Melanie finally did as asked, she once again found her urge to run away repressed. Thanks to her upbringing, she would never have known what a jacuzzi was, but now... she wanted to take all her baths in one. Whenever she'd taken baths in her foster homes, she usually had to make her own bubbles through... much cruder means. The air being circulated through the hot water by the jets was definitely a lot more ideal.
A few minutes later, Joan opened the door and scooped up her clothes, then shut it again and moved over to the front door of the suite. Through the bathroom door, Melanie heard Joan telling someone to clean them as best as they could. "She'll be getting new clothes tomorrow, but for now we need to get the dirt off those," the matriarch assured whoever she was talking to.
A few minutes later, Joan entered the bathroom, took off her jacket, and knelt by the tub's edge. She then rolled up her sleeves, picked up a nearby washcloth, and started using it to scrub Melanie's face clean. "Well, it seems there is a little girl under all that dirt," she said as she worked. Finally, when Melanie's fingers were starting to prune, Joan helped her out of the bath, and gave her a towel and an oversized white nightshirt, telling her to put the second thing on after she'd dried off.
Once she'd finished in the bathroom, Melanie was tucked into bed. It was a king-sized bed, larger than any she'd ever seen in her life, and what amazed her even more was that she was told the whole bed was hers. Joan had her own king-sized bed in another part of the suite. As the covers were being pulled up to her chin, Melanie's gaze happened upon the TV, which was also the biggest she'd ever seen. "Can we watch TV?" Melanie asked her new guardian.
"Not tonight, dear," Joan said. "You've had a long day. Tomorrow, we can watch something with breakfast."
"But I wanna watch now," Melanie insisted.
For the first time since they'd met, Joan's expression became a bit unsettling. "But you can't. Not until tomorrow. You're more tired than you know, dear. And you'll need your rest, because we have a big day ahead of us." So saying, Joan shut off the bedside lamp, then she took the TV remote and moved to another room of their suite.
Through the darkness in the room, Melanie noticed that the older woman had left her attache case sitting over on the writing desk. She waited a few minutes, cast a glance in the direction Joan had gone. Then, when she was satisfied she wouldn't be disturbed, Melanie got up from the bed and moved over to the desk. The case seemed to have a standard lock, so Melanie pulled the lockpicks from her hair, and went to work. As soon as she inserted them, a strong electrical shock seemed to jump out through the lock, then through the metal picks in her hands, jolting the young girl and throwing her out of the chair.
For a few moments, Melanie lay dazed on the soft, deep carpet, staring up at the ceiling. Then she slipped the picks back into her hair, unwilling to tempt fate any more tonight. But as she climbed back into the bed, she made a mental note of what had just happened. It turned out Joan was right, as Melanie was not awake much longer, drifting off to sleep only a few seconds after her head settled back onto the pillow...
In another part of the suite, out of earshot of Melanie, Joan sat on a large sofa and reached for an ornate-looking rotary phone on the polished mahogany table in front of her. She lifted the receiver to her ear and dialed a number.
"Yes?" A male voice with a Japanese accent answered after several rings.
"This line is not secure, so I only have a minute to talk," Joan spoke into the phone. "But I want you to know that we might finally have a full class."
"If indeed your errand was successful."
"We'll know after tomorrow, sir."
"And if you're wrong?"
"If I am, we write this trip off as a business expense and send young Melanie back to the streets. She'll survive. She's quite good at that."
"You understand I still have misgivings about this," the male voice spoke. "But we don't have enough time to talk now. We'll speak more about this on your return to the school."
"Of course, sir," Joan said. Then there was a click on the other end as the line disconnected. Upon hearing the dial tone, the middle aged woman hung up her own phone, picked up her glass of chilled mineral water, and went to prepare for bed.
Don't disappoint me, Melanie, she thought as she snapped off the light in the suite's common area.
A room painted to look like a nursery, otherwise sterile white in color...
A small window in the center of the door... an older, balding man with glasses peers in...
Shouting...
A woman... dark hair... shirt torn... blood running down her arm... the same spots of crimson spackled on her hands...
"Mei Lin! You are in danger! You must come with me now..."
More shouts... gunshots...
A deck and a railing... bright blue ocean stretching as far as she can see...
"I have carried you as far as I can, child... you are a survivor, it's in your blood... stay strong..."
Melanie's eyes slowly came open as morning sunlight slanted through the windows directly onto her face. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming, then she remembered where she was, and why she was currently in a hotel suite larger than some of the hovels she'd lived in under foster care. But unlike the images and words that had just flashed through her mind, that at least wasn't a dream.
At the moment, though, this was probably a mixed blessing. Joan was already up and dressed for business, humming to herself while she drew open the room's curtains. "Rise and shine, dear!" She said in a cheerful voice. "We have a busy day today."
The young girl groaned and rolled the other way on her spacious bed, turning away from the light. "S'too bright," she muttered.
Joan moved away from the windows to the bedside, head shaking in a tsk tsk manner. "Yes, I know, dear," she said in that tone of faux sympathy that Melanie was used to hearing in authoritative adults. "But the brighter it is, the easier it will be for you to move those lazy bones. We have a lot to do to get you ready for school."
Melanie responded by grabbing one of the other pillows and jamming it over her head. She heard the scuffling of shoes on the thick plush carpet, then something was tossed onto the bed next to her. Melanie lifted the pillow slightly to see a leather-bound menu in front of her face.
"Why don't you order some breakfast, dear?" Joan asked her. "That should wake you up. I gather you must be hungry."
Okay, point to her, Melanie thought, propping herself up on her pillows and opening her menu. It had been a day or two since she'd had a decent meal, and the snacks she'd gotten last night had hardly been filling enough. "What should I order?" She asked the matriarch. In the very rare moments when her foster parents took her out to eat, she always got yelled at if she tried to order an entree off the menu that cost more than ten dollars.
Joan was seated at the writing desk, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the complementary newspaper that had been dropped outside the door. She gave a small shrug without looking up from her reading. "Whatever you feel like, dear," she said.
A part of Melanie still didn't trust the older woman, but she was ravenous. A short time later, the young blonde was sitting up in the bed, in front of a tray laden with a chocolate chip short stack, sausages, Canadian bacon, hash browns, toast with butter and jam, a Denver omelette, and a glass of chocolate milk. Joan had set her paper down and watched with an almost rapt fascination as the petite girl started to inhale the food.
"My word, you really were starving, weren't you, child?" She remarked. Melanie did not respond, instead she emptied half a bottle of ketchup onto the plate of fried julienned potatoes and began to shovel them into her mouth. When it looked like she'd slowed down a little, Joan's tone of voice became a bit more serious. "Now, Melanie, you can think of today and tomorrow as a... mini vacation, of sorts. But when we arrive at your new home, you will be expected to follow the rules. Which means when I give you a direction, you do as I say without arguing. Understand?"
Well, no surprises there. I figured there was a catch. Reminds me of fake parents numbers three and seven. "Yes, ma'am," Melanie said with her mouth still full.
For a while, there was silence, Joan reading the paper, Melanie continuing to defy all logic by eating everything in front of her. As she ate, Melanie picked up the remote, which was now sitting back on the nightstand, and turned on the TV. She found some cartoons to watch, and during the commercial break, Joan finally asked her: "Melanie, when I first came into the room, it looked like you were having a dream."
Melanie was only half-listening. She picked at the remains of her omelette while her other ear listened to a commercial for some toy that, according to a disclaimer, was still legal in sixteen states. Finally, she gave a shrug. "I guess I was. Don't really remember it."
"What was it about?"
Melanie shrugged again, forked the last of her egg. "I said I don't really remember, ma'am."
A pause, during which it seemed like Joan was now studying the small blonde girl. Finally, she herself gave a shrug. "Very well. I was only curious."
After that, there was silence again. Around the time Melanie was finished with her breakfast (even going so far as to lick the crumbs from the plate), room service brought up her clothes, clean and freshly pressed. They would have been mistaken for new, were they not still ragged. Joan turned the TV off, told Melanie to go to the bathroom and wash her hands and face, now sticky with ketchup, jelly and syrup, and to get dressed.
"But fortunately, dear, you won't be walking around in those rags much longer," Joan told her, "Because the first thing we are doing is taking you clothes shopping."
Getting new clothes was something Melanie thought she would find boring, but instead it turned out to be something else that surprised her. Joan arranged for transportation through the concierge of the hotel (Melanie recognized him as a man whose pocket she had picked more than once, but kept silent about that), and they actually had a chauffeur to drive them.
He took them to one of the more upscale boutiques in Fresno. A smartly-dressed woman waited by the entrance to take them to another part of the store, where they had a dressing area all to themselves. And while the clothes were being selected, the staff laid out a small buffet of several bowls of snacks (such as pretzels and M and Ms), and even served Melanie soda in a wine glass. For a girl who'd only ever gotten clothes from Goodwill and strip malls (unless she shoplifted from a Gap), it was definitely a new experience.
Melanie was asked to stand in front of some mirrors while store employees measured her from several angles and wrote them down. Joan had procured a cell phone from her case (sadly, Melanie hadn't seen how she'd opened it), and read their measurements to someone on the other end of the line. "Have ten of each ready for us," she spoke into the phone. "We'll be arriving tomorrow."
After that, she bought Melanie some shoes (both sneakers and dress) and several pairs of socks, a few pairs of jeans and some casual shirts, and finally a nice dress to wear for the rest of the day. As she was putting it on, Joan asked the store employees to take the girl's old clothes and burn them. It might have been a joke, but Melanie couldn't be sure. What she was sure of was that she hated wearing her new dress, but Joan convinced her that she needed to make a nice impression later on. After everything had been paid for and the driver had loaded the bags into the trunk, Melanie was taken to a doctor's office, where a thorough physical was done.
"I don't think any of your foster parents ever did this for you, dear," Joan explained. "And we need to make sure you don't have anything contagious you might give to your classmates."
Whatever the reason, Melanie hated every minute of it, and once more felt the urge to run away rising. Especially when the doctor had to draw some blood, and also scraped a cotton swab on the inside of her cheek. Uncomfortable as the dress was, the girl was glad to be able to put it back on when the physical was over. At that point, she was hungry again, but Joan said they had one more very important stop to make, then they could eat anywhere Melanie wanted.
The important stop was the county courthouse, where they arrived just in time for their hearing. It was a setting Melanie had seen many times before: the gallery, separated from the action by a wooden partition; the judge's bench and the tables for prosecution and defense. Behind the former sat Detective Rabin, next to a man in a suit who probably worked for the DA's office. Joan and Melanie took their seats at the latter table. "Try to look like you're sorry, dear," Joan whispered as the two of them sat down.
Instead, Melanie just looked bored, as she'd been through this routine too many times to remember. This time, however, it was different, as everything was more or less rehearsed. The judge read off the charges against Melanie, and the suited man announced that after speaking with the detective, the state wished to file a motion to dismiss all charges.
"Very well, then," said the judge. "If the DA's office does not wish to prosecute, case is dismissed." He banged his gavel once on the wooden bench-top, and then glanced at his notes. "So we move onto the next item of business: The matter of custody for Ms. Melanie Allen." The blonde girl cringed, as she never liked hearing her full name said out loud. Joan launched into a speech she'd quite clearly prepared about the school she ran, and all the reasons it would be the best place for a mind like Melanie's to both grow, and also rehabilitate.
After she was finished, the judge asked Detective Rabin: "Is her legal guardian, Mr. Richard Allen, in court today?"
"No, your honor," Rabin answered. "Ms. Allen has been away from home for at least forty-eight hours, and there's nothing to indicate he even filed a report after Melanie had run away."
The judge leaned forward slightly on his bench in the direction of Melanie. "Do you know where your father is, young lady?"
"Not my father, judge," Melanie responded with a yawn. "And I haven't seen him for three days. I think he said he was taking a trip to Arizona. Had to see a guy about some crystals, or something."
After hearing that, the judge was quick to turn custody of Melanie over to Joan Landy and her school, and was also quick to issue several warrants for her foster father: a bench warrant for failure to appear, an arrest warrant for criminal neglect, and a warrant for Detective Rabin to search his house and see if any other charges could be brought against the man. The sun was getting low in the sky by the time that Joan and Melanie found themselves back out on the steps of the courthouse.
"Well, now that that's over with, dear," Joan said to her new ward. "I promised you dinner. So, where would you like to eat?"
Melanie quirked one blonde eyebrow, remembering what Joan had said earlier. "Really? Anywhere?"
"Of course, dear." Her tone of voice made it seem like it was one of the silliest questions Joan had ever been asked.
Another long pause, where it seemed like the older woman was being studied by the small girl. Then Melanie answered: "There's a Chinese place over on the corner of Fourth Street and D that's really good." She left out the fact that the reason she knew this was because she'd done a dine-and-dash on them in the past. But her hair had been shorter, and she'd been wearing fake glasses, so she didn't think they'd recognize her.
"Then that's where we're eating," Joan said, taking Melanie's hand and starting down the steps towards their car.
The Dragon Palace turned out to be one of the more upscale Chinese restaurants in the city. And it also turned out they didn't recognize Melanie. She and Joan were led to one of the quieter tables in the back, where a waiter quickly brought them a pot of tea, two cups, and some menus.
"So, what are you interested in, dear?" Joan asked.
"Ah, I'll just get some appetizers," Melanie said with a shrug.
"But is that what you want?" Joan got no answer, instead Melanie pressed her face closer to the menu. A minute of silence went by, then the matriarch grabbed the top of the menu and pulled it down, to look her charge directly in the eyes. "Melanie, my child, you must understand I want what's best for you, and I will discipline you when necessary, but I am not any of your foster parents, and I am not the director of any orphanage. So I'm not trying to trick you. If there is something on this menu you want to eat, then order it. Money is no object. The people I work for have enough of it."
That last line intrigued the blonde girl. And it seemed to make sense, given everything she'd seen since meeting Joan. So she replied: "Well, I'd like to try the Peking Duck." She went on to explain that one of her foster parents was ordering take-out Chinese one night, and after giving Melanie the menu to look at, had slapped the girl when she said she wanted Peking Duck.
Joan gave her a smile. "If that's what you want, dear, then get it." So when the waiter came back, Melanie placed a half-order while Joan ordered beef and broccoli, and also an egg roll appetizer for them to share. The rolls were brought out shortly after along with bowls of duck sauce and Chinese mustard. To Joan's surprise, Melanie took the mustard spoon and began spreading a generous amount up and down her egg roll. "Um... I would be careful with that, sweetheart," Joan told her. "It's extremely hot."
Melanie simply shrugged and continued spreading. When she raised it to her mouth and took a large bite, Joan was expecting her to spew it across the tablecloth, but... the blonde girl just chewed and swallowed, appearing to be unfazed by the heat of the mustard.
"Incredible," Joan half-whispered.
"Not really," Melanie said with her mouth full. "It doesn't bother me."
A short time later, their entrees were brought out, and Joan walked Melanie through the process behind eating Peking Duck. When she took that first bite... she wondered where it had been all her young life. The juicy meat, the crispy skin, the tang of the scallions and hoisin sauce... everything blended perfectly.
After they'd been eating for a while, Joan took a sip of her wine and leaned forward slightly in the chair. "Melanie... may I ask you something, dear?"
Melanie gave a shrug, and reached for her soda. "Sure, why not?"
"What is the earliest thing you can remember?"
The petite blonde had not been expecting this question, but tried not to show that in her eyes. She finished eating the rolled pancake on her plate, and then answered. "Um... the ocean, I think."
"What do you mean by that?"
For a brief moment, Melanie's thoughts flashed back to her dream from that morning. Not the first time she'd had it, but she didn't see a reason to tell her new guardian that. At least, not yet. She still was trying to figure out why anyone would care so much about her, and also why Joan's briefcase needed security measures on it. Finally, she picked up a sliver of duck skin, placed it in her mouth and started crunching it. Joan simply sat there patiently, swirling the wine left in her glass.
After Melanie swallowed, she spoke again. "I dunno. I think it was the ocean. It was just... a lot of blue stretching out to the horizon. Maybe I was on a boat? Don't really remember anything else. Just... the ocean. Don't even know which one it was."
"I see." The elder woman gave a curt nod, and began picking at her plate once more. They were almost done when Melanie asked her: "How did the detective catch me?"
"A witness saw you scaling the fire escape," Joan explained. "And called the police."
"Oh, that's too bad," said Melanie, in a tone that was completely lacking remorse, but rather she seemed to be chastising herself for making such a careless mistake and letting herself get spotted.
"It's interesting, though," the matriarch went on. "The witness said you were moving just like a cat. Yes... that was how they described it. They'd never seen anyone move with such agility, or so quietly. Where did you learn that?"
Another shrug. "Well, I mean, you learn how to sneak pretty quickly when you're trying not to wake up your deadbeat fake parents. But as for the other stuff... it's just always something I've had a knack for. Like the electrical stuff."
Joan sat back in her seat, quiet admiration in her eyes, and drained her wine glass. "Fascinating."
"Um.. can we order some fried ice cream, ma'am?"
After dessert was over and they were on their way back to the hotel, they happened to pass a 24-hour drugstore. Melanie asked the driver if they could stop, and the man looked over at Joan, one brow raised in a quizzical expression.
The older woman gave him a nod. "Why are we stopping, Melanie?"
"No reason. There's just something I need to buy."
"Well, that is a reason. What are we buying, dear?"
"Just something I need," Melanie repeated, and said no more.
To her surprise, Joan did not ask any further questions, and after the car was parked, took Melanie into the drugstore. The girl went immediately to a housewares aisle and selected a pair of rubber kitchen gloves. Joan thought this an interesting purchase for a ten-year-old, but decided it might give her some insight into what was going on inside that mysterious young mind. So she remained silent.
From the drugstore, it was back to the hotel, where there was a nice end to the day. Melanie finally got to take off the accursed dress, take another bath in the jacuzzi, put her comfy nightshirt on, and climb into bed to watch some television. Joan didn't even seem to mind when Melanie chose a channel playing an R-Rated movie. For some reason, the matriarch almost looked satisfied with this decision (not that it mattered to Melanie, she'd seen the movie before).
Finally, it was lights out. A few minutes after Melanie had been tucked in and Joan left the room, the blonde girl's eyes came open. She waited a few more minutes for her vision to get adjusted, then she glanced around the room, and through the dimness saw the case sitting on the writing desk. Almost as if its owner were daring Melanie to find a way to open it.
"Dare accepted," Melanie whispered to herself. She reached under her pillow, where the kitchen gloves were hiding, slipped them on, and rose from the bed, once more approaching the case with her lockpicks ready.
As before, a jolt of electricity shot out from the lock, but this time, Melanie's rubber gloves absorbed the juice, leaving her unfazed. It did not take long for her to open the lock, and as she swung that security latch upwards... she was greeted with another lock, this one a row of four combination wheels.
"Um... well, this sucks," she whispered to herself. She sat there for several moments, wondering what to do. Should she try and guess the combination? What would happen if she guessed wrong? Another electrical shock? Or something else?
After spending several minutes sitting there trying to make up her mind, the small girl heard a faint hissing noise which seemed to be coming from the case itself. The air around her suddenly took on a sour/sweet smell, and then Melanie felt her eyelids grow heavy, saw her vision blurring. Gas? Was the last thought she had before the world went black, and she slipped from the chair, collapsing in a heap on the carpet.
ADDITIONAL NOTES
So, I've stuck a lot of pop culture references in the last two chapters. I won't list them off, I think it will be more fun to see if readers can spot them. I make at least two references to the Simpsons in this chapter. Let me know in a review what you caught.
Also, I am aware that the court system doesn't work this fast in real life, but I gotta move the story forward, and... there's a reason it's called fiction.
Next: Vacation is over! It's time for Melanie to see her new home.
