October 2018 - When I met Patrick - Part 2
Walking along the hospital parking lot, I quickly told Patrick about the reports and bodies. The most important points only, nothing about MG or Joseph, to avoid unnecessary questions. The bodies were three days older, they were human or normal, "well I usually feel very normal too", and someone drained all the blood out of them. Since the accident was only yesterday… this all thing was being staged, but by who? Anne maybe? Erin? *Damn Tris, you are overthinking again, let it go, don't get too involved...*.
A couple of minutes later we were in the car... Again! *Painful* The night seemed longer than usual, no light at the end of the tunnel at that stage. Patrick was quiet, as usual, taking is time, settling in, seat belt check, start engine check, lights check, regularly peeking his "little screen" like he was communicating with it. For sure it's only platonic.
Patrick: Hey Tris, what do you want to listen this time? (Breaking the silence)
Me: *I am tired to think too much this time, *sigh*. Pentatonix?
Patrick: Good choice *He didn't try to hide his surprised expression or his contentment*, actually a very good choice, *And finally he started to show something about him, only a bit of the very top of the iceberg. We all are like Icebergs, what we are and show usually above water, and then what sustains us, the darker and colder part of us, what really drive us and guide us, deep inside the pitch-black freezing water.*
Me: Where to this time?
Patrick: Well, we still need...*yeah right, we do. Let's focus, I fucking want to go home soon*. I just interrupt him.
Me: We have to go back to the crash site again, Patrick. (Silence) Are you telling me what happened back there? (Silence) Did you see something?
Patrick: We need to be careful there, just... just that. *Hmm, whatever ... Just don't run away again, I won't follow you this time*.
All those errands were depressing me, it felt my bones were being crushed one by one, slowly. Like if it wasn't enough, at the same time, and as usual, through my mind hundreds of thoughts were flying around, fast, in circles, making it very hard, to focus, to clear the noise of overlapping emotions, images, and or simply memories. As I was looking through the car window, everything was passing fast, the images transition were blurred, until slowly forming, I saw her beautiful smile, "one that if it was invented, and I was the inventor, I would have created paradise", the smile of my friend, my … *sigh* I miss her … I deeply miss her, but it's better to keep her afar, is it? *sigh* All this mixed with the uneasiness of having the two blood bags with me, and the angst with what Patrick was going to this time around, at the crash site. I just felt pain and a sense of deep sadness.
"Sadness is contagious, it grows on you, addicts you to it, transforms you".
The car stopped, it didn't take us long to get there this time.
Me: OK, don't freak out again.
Patrick: Just watch out, maybe stay behind, *Yes dad*.
Me: Yeah … I will.
He got out, and yes, he didn't forget his tablet. Good time for a fag letting him go ahead. I lit one up, after getting out too, wouldn't want to see him mad for smoking inside his car, but I wonder how he would react to that. Maybe I'd try that later, but definitely not at the time. Halfway through my cig, *sigh* it was taking too much time, couldn't let him do the thing by himself. Better if I stepped in and took a look also. The tire marks still there, the rail guard all smashed, wait, some footprints. What were these? I didn't have the chance to examine the first time, I had to take a closer look.
Me: These footprints didn't catch my eye before, let me have a look.
Patrick: Strange aren't they? I wonder who or what could do such marks.
Me: Well they are definitely from something big, an animal maybe or… *Yep I am sure, exactly like in that "manual" I've back home*, they're from a werewolf.
Patrick: WHAT? *Damn, he almost scared me this time, was this what freaked him the first time?*. How do you know that? How old are you? *I can't see a connection here, he's probably just making random questions, guys like him, well, guys broadly speaking, rarely choose the right time or the right questions ...*.
Me: Eighteen, *Actually my birthday was just two months ago, I met that chic … I remember her curves, her soft skin, her perfume … and yes, definitely her energy. She was nice now that I think about it, what's her name again? I don't think I asked...*, why?
Patrick: huh...
Me: Let's keep moving. *But be careful?*
Patrick: But let's be careful, *I'm starting to get him… maybe is not a bad person*.
Me: Let's get down there! (I didn't wait for him, I just went down towards the door. He followed.
Claw marks on the door, big ones, but this time nor I nor Patrick knew what the marks were. Were the marks big? Yes. Unusual? Definitely. I never saw anything like that, not even in the books and I bet Patrick neither, or else he wouldn't be so sober-blooded. We looked around, kicking some plastic debris from the car laying on the ground, but apart from the weeds and some tiny crawlers, there was nothing. Nothing useful there, *damn* what a waste of time.
After twenty-five to thirty meters apart from the car door, was the biggest concentration of debris. The ground around looked like the impact zone, probably the car landed exactly here after rolling and sliding down. Only some of the grass and a few corny flowers looked intact slightly following the light breeze. Whoever did those marks to the door throw it all the way back there *Damn*.
Me: Hey, what do you think about this?
Patrick: Don't know what to think from this, but I wonder if someone planned all this.
Me: Maybe, Anne was attacked or else this was all fabricated.
Patrick: I agree. Well let's move on, we still have some places to check, car depot and the Garda Station.
Me: *I checked my phone, half two already, the sun will rise in a few hours*, It's getting late. Depot?
Patrick: Yep, looks good, we will need time to get what we need from the Garda Station. It won't be easy.
Me: Let's go then, you know where it is?
Patrick: Not really, will follow the GPS.
"In two hundred meters, please turn left."
"You have arrived, your destination is on the left."
Patrick didn't stop at the gate, giving a few meters distance between the gate and the car, good thinking actually.
Patrick: Let's go?
Me: Right on.
Patrick: We have to find a way to get in.
Me: The gate must be closed, let's go over the fence?
Patrick: Barbed wire on top!
Me: We can use the car mats to smooth it.
Patrick: Good idea, and how to get up there, these are like three meters height. I know. We can use the car, let me park it closer to the fence.
Nice! While waiting, I lit up one more, *argh* getting low, after this I'm going home! I deeply inhaled, making a pause, looked up, the few stars trying to hide behind my smoke, I looked around not much going on, on that particular area, made perfect sense since it's an industrial area. The lights were dim, and the streets empty, lifeless, not even our presence there changed that. Not that I care, not at all, on the contrary, it made me feel one with myself again, allows me to go deep into my thoughts. Wait! There is something, an indistinguishable sound far away keeps repeating, getting closer. Tris.
Patrick: Tris? Tris, are you coming?
Me: You first.
Patrick managed to climb up and perfectly landed on the other side, I followed.
Patrick: Let's search for the car.
Me: You have the plates?
Patrick: Sure, here (turning his tablet to me).
Me: You check the car, I will go to the office there and check for the report, agreed?
He nodded as we followed different directions. The office was above the garage, I went up the stairs, tried the door but found it locked, searched for the key under the doormat, on the dried remains of what was once a small flower but no luck. I still had to try the windows, I thought that maybe I could be that lucky. No, not really. This was really getting on my nerves, we looked like two pigs sniffing around for clues, chasing a ghost that didn't even have a proper car crash. Bunch of fucking bitches, the more I know about this Camarilla … (let's call it group for now) the more … fuck, and I thought veganism was a bad thing. As I was considering these thoughts I looked down to my feet and… there was one option remaining, the boot on my foot. I tried it on the window and it worked flawlessly (did a lot of noise but since there was no one there to hear it…), the window was now open.
The smell inside the room was nauseous, an exquisite blend of oil, cigarettes, and sweat. Turning my cell torch, I could see two desks struggling with each other for the right amount of space, ashtrays full of buts, car parts on the ground, some car plates hanging on the wall, what a lovely place, these guys must know their decor skills. I quickly searched the cabinets and drawers for the records but the lack of anything interesting made me try the old computer *or its remains* resting in one of the desks. It was time to try my skills if only I could see properly between the lack of light and the dark grease that covered some of the keys on the keyboard. At least none were missing. It was easy to break the login, and like I imagined the desktop was full of files and folders, completely full, I could barely notice what the background image was about. They probably don't know they can put folders inside folders I thought, fucking bastards, they never make your life easy…
It didn't take me much time (well I had I quick pick on the porno folders, but … guys porno, no surprises, no proper ladies) to realize that this old piece of junk was not used for work, rather for fun, then the grease on the keyboard. I was overthinking it, I laid back in the chair, and as I picked my phone from the desk to turn on the torch again, some papers fell to the ground. In one of them a number caught my attention, I turned the light to it, and *What? The inspection of the car is only scheduled for tomorrow? I felt … I felt my heart beating again, these fucking bastards * the second time I thought about them*, the blood boiling on my veins, these fucking errands, my skin burning, Erin you damn bitch*, and this was my last thought. When I come to my senses again, the old pc was trashed, there was still papers flying around, my phone was laying at my feet, some of the "beautiful" decors were not so beautiful anymore. I was noticing more and more details as my vision was being restored, less and less fuzzy. Seconds later Patrick was static at the window, speechless.
Patrick: Tris, are you OK?
Me: I don't know yet … yeah, I am.
Patrick: What happened?
Me: I lost it for a bit *fuck*. The reports are not ready yet, they have them scheduled for tomorrow.
Patrick: Fine, I think we already have what we need.
Me: What did you find?
Patrick: Let's get back to the car, I'll show it to you, there.
In the car, feeling my normal self again…
Patrick: Did any of the bodies at the hospital are missing a hand?
Me: What? *a hand?* No, you've found one?
Patrick: Yes.
Me: Male or female? Can you tell?
Patrick: Male, and I also found this. (He showed me some small device, a tiny black box, with three wires hanging, like they had been ripped apart from someplace else).
Me: What is that?
Patrick: Some remote device, with an internal antenna, enough to be activated two to three hundred meters afar.
Me: To do what exactly?
Patrick: Not sure, we will just take it back and show it to Erin. It's up to her to find out.
Me: I couldn't agree with you more. Let's call it a night? I feel like going home.
Patrick: Well, it's too late to for the Garda station, and not really sure what or where to look next.
Me: We could pay Anne's haven a visit. *Why do I keep having these ideas? And saying them? Honestly?* Maybe she went hiding there after the crash.
Patrick: Good idea, do you know where it is?
Me: Give me a second, let me make a phone call.
I scrolled my contacts, not many, I'm not very social, and I don't really like to talk to people that much, but some must be kept, for things like this. John O'Donald, the guy that took me in, maybe he could help, but … *Am I trying to find options, to avoid calling Erin? Fuck…*
Erin: Hi Tris.
Me: Erin! Sorry to bother you, but I am wondering if you can help us with something…
Erin: Is this related to the task at hands?
Me: Yes, do you know where Anne's "place" is? *I can't call it haven since it's banned from public or phone conversations. Isn't Camarilla a lovely group?*
Erin: I will send it to your mobile, it won't take time.
Me: Grand.
Erin: How are you and Patrick getting along?
Me: Fine, he's very focused on getting this done.
Erin: Right! Bye now.
This bitch just hang up? Didn't even give me a chance to say bye back, not that I care, I don't expect nothing from her. A few seconds later I had the location.
Me: Got it, let's go?
Patrick: Show me, (as he started the engine, and prepared to set up his GPS).
Off we went. It was getting dangerously late, the dark of night was fading away, consumed by the light of the newborn day, but her haven was not that far, and Patrick did speed up a bit. We got there in no time. Patrick parked the car, we looked at each other, and for the first time I believe we shared the same emotion, he was not happy with this too and he was also getting tired. Erin you … I quickly tried to find a better word but … bitch fits like a glove. Well at least Patrick looks a decent person, but let's not "put the cart before the horse". As soon as I closed the car door behind me, Patrick's phone rang, he looked at it, and his expression totally changed to something between anxious and worried. I grabbed my pack of cigs, the lighter and lit one up, while walking a few meters away from him, to give him "space".
Patrick: Hello, did something happen? *Space, not privacy"…
Female voice: Hi son, I am at the hospital.
Patrick: Which one? Are you OK? What happened exactly? He got in the car again and closed the door behind him, immediately starting the engine.
I am sorry Patrick, so very sorry. I focused on him, ignoring all the external noise, almost like I was in between the phone and his ear. Not everything in my present condition is that bad, I think the worst is not being able to drink coffee anymore…
Patrick's mom: I am OK, yes, but your dad was not feeling well, and... hmm, well he had a heart attack.
Patrick: Where are you?
Patrick's mom: St. Mitchel's hospital.
Patrick: Stay there! I am on my way.
And he left, I didn't follow. I don't really like families, and least of all family problems. Now I start to understand him, he's tied up. *Sigh* I wonder if that's a good thing? I don't miss it, but, you don't miss it until you lose it and in order to lose something you have to have it first.
Nice to meet you, Patrick. Good luck!
See you when I see you.