Mind and Body Chapter 3: The Waystation
A.K.A. Creative Karma
In a glass-sided stand-alone room at the entrance of the zoo, Anthony was typing up the daily report on his computer. He glanced in bemusement at Forrest—no, it was Garfield now—and shook his head. He still couldn't believe that the great, green house cat apparently trusted him. Garfield's ear twitched. While Anthony stared, Garfield suddenly raised his head and stared outside the room alertly. He stood and hopped down from the table, to stare outside in the direction of the front gate, where Anthony saw him staring at a small figure in the afternoon sunshine that stumbled toward them.
Instantly Anthony stood and exited the little room, hurrying to the small figure. Upon arriving he saw that it was Rachel, the girl with purple hair on yesterday's tour. His step subconsciously slowed down as he went to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?" he asked without thinking, and Rachel jerked up to look at him.
She couldn't comprehend how Anthony had gotten there without her noticing, until she realized that of course he would have been acting on instinct, not thinking at all. Cameron…knife…kill me…. She thought, and could sense Garfield's alarm and immediate hate for the nasty boy. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. No need to set some sort of unknown danger on anyone.
Anthony nervously stood there, not understanding what was going on, and startled when he heard Rachel murmur, "Cameron tried to kill me."
"Oh, come now," he scoffed, "the sweet-faced boy? He wouldn't do anything like that." But then he felt both of the other beings staring at him disapprovingly. "What? He couldn't…he wouldn't…no, he didn't…." he trailed off as he saw Garfield shake his head sadly, then added, "Did he?"
"Yes," Rachel said, merely stating it like a fact, "yes he did, with a kitchen knife. Then I…I…I don't know what happened, only I did it, and it broke Cameron. His arm, I mean, it broke…I broke it. And the energy surrounding it glowed; there was energy, you know, black energy." She was rambling, and Anthony could tell by her frightened face that she wasn't used to it.
"All right, calm down," he said soothingly, and thought I should probably tell that Professor or Chief character, whatever it is he calls himself. But was the energy from her? Rachel broke in. "I don't know how I know, but I do know that it was me who broke his arm. And promise you won't call any important people: I can't stand being poked and prodded." Should I invite her to stay at my house for a while? He thought, unsure, he didn't want anything weird happening around him, but he couldn't leave a six-year-old on the streets. He noticed that Rachel perked up. Great, he thought, there's no way I can surprise her…she's practically omniscient.
"What does 'omniscient' mean?" Rachel asked. Anthony blinked and smiled, Scratch that: omniscient and unworldly, what a combo…. Crap, that's right! She can hear me! He shook himself and apologized. "I'm sorry I thought that. Omniscient means that you know all and nothing is a secret."
"Well that's not true…. But was what you thought about giving me a place to stay real?" Rachel asked him. Anthony was caught short, and his mind went blank. He shivered instinctively and glanced at Garfield. The cat was staring at him, not menacingly or in such a way as to influence his decision, but to see what he he wanted to, the prospect of a telepath and a telekinetic that's the only thing that could explain it, he thought, allowing Rachel to pick that thought out of his mind without vocalizing it, did not sound safe in his house. Even though he was a bachelor. Then he saw Garfield shake his head in disappointment and he changed his mind abruptly.
"Yes…yes! You can stay at my place for a while if you need to."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A pained scream and a slammed door brought Ella barreling down the long, wooden staircase. And no one barrels like Ella. Upon arriving in the kitchen she saw Cameron, a butcher's knife on the floor beside him, rocking back and forth. He was holding his arm gingerly and constantly wincing, breathing in a whistle and muttering to himself, "That little…I'm gonna…ow…I don't know what I'm gonna do, but that twerp'll regret whatever she did!"
"What do you mean by 'what the twerp did'?" Ella asked slowly as she walked to him. "Rachel wasn't the one that slammed the door, was she?"
Cameron glared balefully at her, "What do you think? Of course it was her! Ow…. I doubt she'll…ow…come back, either." Ella's sleepy eyes opened in alarm. There was no way she would let that girl get away: she would lose her job if her employer learned that she had lost a child! "Come with me!" she ordered, grabbing Cameron's arm to take him with her, but his gasping snarl made her let go.
"Are you mad?" he said raggedly after he could speak again, "My arm's broken and you just grab it like we're gonna stroll in the park hand in hand?"
Ella scoffed. "Oh, what are you talking about?" she said testily, "It's probably just a sprain: she isn't strong enough to break an arm, her body is the weakest I've seen."
Cameron blew up at how thick she was being. "She didn't need to touch me!" he said, desperate to get her to listen to him, "She just…I don't know, willed it to happen and it did! OW!" Ella had taken a firmer grip on his wrist and lifted it to look more closely. Unable to brush off the evidence, she reluctantly let go of his hand, accidentally letting his arm drop uncontrolled and sending a new wave of pain through him. Cameron started to cry.
Ella frowned and said reluctantly, "I suppose we should take you to the hospital."
"You think?!" Cameron said sarcastically.
"No, I don't think," Ella retorted as she went to get the car, "I know."
Cameron screamed in frustration.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Anthony quickly bundled Rachel into his five-room apartment. He got her through the plain plaster door and into his modest living room. His shabby green couch was set against the left wall and the small TV was on the opposite wall along with the rest of his "entertainment". A door on the far wall opened into his bathroom, as he showed Rachel, and the guest bedroom was on the right. He didn't realize just how bad life at the orphanage must have been until he saw Rachel's pale face brighten up at the bed he felt stunk to high heaven—it was only a mattress. "This…will be my room?" she asked. Anthony just nodded.
With a smile that was all the more touching for being the first one he had seen on her face, Rachel collapsed onto the mattress and sighed. Garfield hopped up and sat by her head, looking at her with what Anthony could have sworn was a look of kindness. "It's perfect," she murmured.
Anthony blushed. "Well, I don't know about that," and Rachel looked at him in confusion. He pulled at his collar and said quickly, "Would you like something to eat?"
"I get it," Rachel said to herself, "you spoke without thinking, didn't you?" Anthony laughed uncomfortably at that and repeated, "Would you like something to eat?"
Rachel smiled again, "Can I really have something to eat?"
"Of course you can," Anthony said instinctively, "couldn't you eat whenever at the orphanage?" he stared as she shook her head. "You couldn't?" he asked rhetorically, "Wow, you have had a hard life…. I'm sorry!" he said in reaction to her hiding her face in her long purple hair again, "I didn't mean it to sound like that, I mean…um…well, you know what I mean, don't you?" he asked in a small voice.
Rachel granted him a tiny view of her face and nodded slightly. Grateful for the reprieve, Anthony hurried to his little kitchen. "I'll make you a grilled cheese sandwich, then, shall I?"
He didn't see her as he cooked, but if he had he would have seen the first genuine smile that had ever graced Rachel's face.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fortunately the nearest doctor, Dr. Wrassel, knew Ella and her charges well, and didn't ask many questions about why there were so many injuries in an orphanage. Unfortunately for Cameron, this also meant she had a very good idea about the source of those injuries for over two years. After all, when only one of the children has been untouched by those "suspicious accidents", simple common sense would lead you to expect that the child is the suspicious accident.
"So how did this happen?" she asked. She took careful note of how the two in front of her looked at each other before answering, "I tripped on the top of the stairs and fell to the foot of them," Cameron said quickly.
Yes, just a little too glib and unconvincing. "I see," she said flatly, "Well I will set it, of course, but I'm curious as to how it broke so cleanly. If you'll look at these X-rays, you will see that there aren't any hairline cracks radiating from the break. Even in the cleanest breaks you find evidence of strain from the muscles resisting the pull of the bone so as to reduce the damage, but this break is more like someone took your arm off with a razor-sharp edge and somehow missed the muscles and skin. It makes the scientist in me very curious as to how it could happen."
Ella and Cameron nervously shifted their feet until Cameron decided on a factual account, despite Ella's urgent hiss to the contrary. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He said flatly.
"Is that so?" the doctor said, "Why don't you try me?"
Cameron looked at her with a hard look in his eyes. "Would you believe me if I said it was magic?"
The doctor chuckled. "Other than the fact that you're a pathological liar," she said over his squawk of disagreement, "no, I still wouldn't believe you."
"So you might as well just take the cover story and do what you're told."
Dr. Wrassel pulled herself up to her full, impressive height, and said formally, "If I was not a doctor, I would agree. But the thing is, the doctor is the one in charge when it comes to the hospital; the doctor gives the orders, he or she does not take them. You may leave: we are done here."
Cameron was incredulous. "But you haven't put my arm in a cast yet!" he said with a squeal.
"Exactly," the doctor replied coolly, "when I am treated in such a fashion, I only diagnose: I do not cure. You will need to find a doctor willing to take your crap if you want that arm fixed. Good day." She completed, shaking the hand of his broken arm deliberately and turning a deaf ear to his screech.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rachel couldn't believe it. First her life had been the ordinary, everyday nightmare, and then it was suddenly the best thing she had ever experienced, though that wasn't saying much. After eating the gooey, cheesy sandwich Anthony had given her, she had curled up without undressing or getting under the covers, and immediately fell asleep.
The very next morning she woke up and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling until the simple fact seeped into her mind: she had been asleep. Even better, she had slept well. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in, she didn't know, forever probably. And the mattress was the softest thing she had ever slept in. Including that section of floor in front of the fireplace that suffered from wood rot at Khale. She was about to roll out of bed and bitch to herself about having to get up when she realized that she could sleep in as long as she wanted. Oh my, she thought, this really is the best. With that comforting thought, and the comforting weight of Garfield's furry back pressed against hers, she fell asleep again. Only this time, she crawled under the thick covers.
It was noon when she woke up fully, and Anthony wasn't home. Panicking at first, she dashed out of her room…her room, no one else's…and saw a note on the door. He probably already knew she could read.
"I hope this note finds you before I come back," the note began, "because I would feel silly for writing this if you don't. If you need any food, you can look in the fridge. I'll be back at 5:15 tonight. Make yourself at home!"
She choked up a bit at how genuine it was, and happily inspected the fridge for a meal.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Balefully glaring at Ella from back seat, Cameron cradled the newly splinted arm delicately. Why hadn't she shown more concern for him? He was Cameron, and although he didn't talk about it, he felt that he must be the center of the universe. No other explanation of himself was acceptable.
He was so busy glaring daggers at her back that Cameron didn't notice where Ella was driving to until she parked next to a large, black building. She got out swiftly and turned to him. "Are you getting out on your own or am I bringing you out myself?"
Snorting, Cameron rose slowly and exited the car. "What is this place?" he asked without real interest, "It looks abandoned."
"Well it isn't." Ella replied.
"So what's here?!" Cameron said in an extremely surly tone, "What nutjobs would live in such a rundown place?"
Ella turned her back on him and walked to the corner, beckoning. After he caught up, hating the fact that he had to take her orders, she replied, "These 'nutjobs' are the people who will find Rachel for us, and you better not let them hear you say that because even though it is true they will kill you for it." The sweat suddenly started pouring down Cameron's face.
"A-are you sure it's safe to go to these people?" he asked nervously. Ella nodded and said, "As long as you behave yourself they will listen."
They slowly walked to the battered door and Ella knocked. Suddenly they heard a voice come seemingly from no where, but was evident from the tinny quality to be coming from an intercom. "I see you: come in and don't touch anything," the voice said.
After the door closed behind them they saw a long staircase to their left and a hallway in front of them that had doors all along both sides. "Take the stairs to the top floor," the voice said, "and follow the hall up there."
Slowly they stepped up and heard them creak. Cameron had expected them to be dusty but instead they were polished to the point where the slightest of lights would reflect with such brilliance as to blind them. At the top they headed down the new hallway and heard the voice again. "You will open the 8th door on your right and wait outside the next door. I will call upon you there." The voice said.
"How does he know where we are?" Cameron said petulantly, "I don't like mysteries."
As they opened the designated door, the voice sounded again, "I can see you: that should be answer enough. And as to your comment…little boy…" Cameron bristled at that, "What if you are the mystery in question?"
Cameron smiled a wolfish smile as the inner door opened. "I like that very much," he replied.
The silhouette of a broad-shouldered man laughed softly. "Very good," he murmured from behind the broad desk, "Your request is granted, Mrs. Swaggart. The team will be ready for you as you leave the premises."
"That's it?" Ella asked, "you didn't even ask what I wanted…and you haven't even told me the payment you want for the job. Who are you, really, anyway?"
The man placed his open palms on the desk as he stopped his bodyguard with a look. "You want my team to retrieve a young girl with uniquely purple hair: that much was simple to discover. As for payment, that boy is enough."
Ella stiffened. "What?" she asked in surprise, "What do you mean?" She didn't want to lose a child to retrieve the other; given a choice she would have opted to keep Cameron.
"He won't leave the orphanage: he will simply be required to work for me, and that work will most certainly extend past the point where he leaves the orphanage."
"Wait a minute," Cameron said with a deep rage growing, "Don't I get a say in this? What if I don't want to work for you?"
"That is what I like to hear," the man said, "But from what my people have told me about you, and from what I have seen myself, you will most definitely find the work…pleasurable. And for now you may call me Wilson."
Cameron frowned and crossed his arms. "If I'm going to work for you, I want to know your real name."
The man scowled and folded his own arms. "Extortionist," he growled, "If that's the case then this information does not leave this room, is that clear?" Cameron hesitated, then nodded.
"I wasn't lying about my last name...but it's Slade."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rachel had just begun to think her life was actually going to succeed when one Saturday, watching an old movie with Garfield and Anthony, she was interrupted by a business-like rap on the door. She had been so absorbed by the movie that emotions had fallen into the recesses of her mind. Otherwise she would have been warned and vacated the house as quickly as possible.
"Now who could that be?" Anthony asked, and opened the door.
That simple action led to welter of confused action. A group of toughs poured through the door immediately, followed by Ella and Cameron. "The girl comes with us!" one man said, and the others grinned. In an instant a roar came from Garfield, a roar that was many times too loud for a house cat. Turning swiftly everyone suddenly saw that he was now a tiger.
With a snarl he pounced on the first man and tore his head from his shoulders, then he turned to the others and proceeded to tear them apart as they stumbled over each other screaming, trying to get away from the terror.
Anthony and Rachel stared in horrified shock as he completed his grisly business. Ella could be seen running as fast as her little legs could carry her, and there was no sign of Cameron.
Garfield, in tiger form, trotted up to Rachel and nuzzled her cheek, but Rachel turned away with tears in her eyes. "That was horrible," she whispered, "You're horrible."
I did what was needed to protect us.
"But you could have done it without killing them!"
Garfield's ears drooped and he changed back into house cat form. It was strange, because it happened too fast for any detail to be seen, but it seemed that everything shifted at once: too fast for it to be entirely formed by thought.
Shaking, Anthony said quietly, "Maybe it would be best if you and Garfield left Manhattan."
With tears in her eyes, Rachel nodded reluctant agreement. At least Garfield would be there, although at the moment she wasn't sure she would like that.
--------------------
I'm sorry this took a little longer to upload, but I'll try to do better. It doesn't help that I have more than 20 ideas for other fanfictions, either! I will be going on a trip soon so don't expect the next one too soon. However, that means a lot more will have been written by the time I get back, so your patience will be rewarded!