Between Ascension, page 16
part #9 of Levels of Ascension Series
“What? Why would they all go over there?”
Again, Sofia could have punched herself for opening her big mouth. How in the world was she going to explain the real reason for them going over there? It was not like she could tell Luke they were learning to use magic from Willian. Instead of answering she temporized, “I’m not exactly sure what their plan was, but they all went over there. Maybe they’re trying to get this mess straightened out before Jena gets home.”
“Hmm,” Luke responded. He picked up his burger and took a vicious bite. He chewed hurriedly and took another bite as he tried to imagine how Jena would need him when all of this played out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The couple was still kissing and groping one another as they burst through the hotel door. The man pushed the woman backward as he continued to kiss her neck and began unbuttoning her shirt in anticipation of what was soon to come. They fell together on the bed, and the woman turned her head to allow easier access to kisses on her neck. She opened her eyes and immediately began screaming as she discovered another man already in the bed.
“What the hell?” the man exclaimed as he pushed himself off of the bed and prepared a defensive stance against the stranger in the room.
Petre, startled out of his sleep by the woman’s screams, sat bolt upright in bed and realized he was in a terrible situation. Even as the man erupted off of the bed on one side, Petre did likewise on the other. Unfortunately, the man was between him and the exit. Thinking as fast as his muddled brain allowed, he gathered elemy around himself and seemed to disappear before the man’s eyes.
“Where did he go?” the woman screamed as she sat up on the bed and held her blouse closed with her clutching hand. “Bruce, do something!”
“What do you think I’m doing?” His eyes scanned the room for any sign of movement. He began to edge over to where he had last seen the stranger, thrusting out his fist in the off-chance it might hit something. Hearing a noise behind him, he saw movement and turned just in time to see the door open. He lunged over to the closing door, grabbed it, and hauled it open. He scanned the hallway and thought he saw a glimpse of someone entering the elevator as the doors were closing.
He ran back into the room and grabbed up the phone and hit the zero button. When the operator answered, he yelled, “There was someone sleeping in our room. He ran when I confronted him, and he just got into the elevator! What kind of a hotel are you running? This is unacceptable!”
Petre could hear the man’s rantings as the doors shut. He breathed a sigh of relief at the close call and allowed the shielding cloak around him to dissipate as the doors slid shut in front of him. The elevator felt as though it were moving down, which was exactly what he wanted anyway.
It appeared his problems were not over when the doors opened into the lobby, and there were several men wearing uniforms converging on him. In a split-second, he recreated his cloaking shield and slipped between the men. He chuckled at their cries of dismay at his apparent disappearance and kept moving forward until he was through the lobby and back on the sidewalk outside. Keeping the shield in place for the time being, Petre tried to get his bearings from his rude awakening.
It was already light outside, and the streets were busier than they were the evening before. The sounds were deafening, and he felt the tension increasing inside him with each passing step. Thinking he was probably far enough away from the hotel that nobody would recognize him, he let the shield dissipate again, and he stood with his back to a building and watched people pass by without even noticing him.
Now that he was awake, he wondered what he would do to find Stephen. There had to be some way to get to where he was going. For the first time, Petre wished he had taken the time to learn more about Earth before he made the rash journey into this unwelcoming land. There were so many customs and strange happenings that he felt like a lost soul. Suddenly he realized how the people from Earth must feel when they mistakenly found themselves in Tuala, not knowing anything or anybody.
After several hours of watching the people, Petre began to recognize a pattern with their movements. Men and women would step off of the sidewalk, hold out their hands, and a vehicle would stop and pick them up. He had to assume they would then be taken to their destination. With this new idea firmly in his mind, he pushed himself away from the side of the building and did as he had seen.
He stepped off the curb in front of a vehicle. The car screeched to a stop with its horn blazing and the person behind the wheel shaking his fist and yelling at the top of his lungs. “Get out of the street you moron!” He cranked the wheel and pulled around Petre, holding up his middle finger out the passenger side window as he passed.
Petre stepped back up onto the curb and wondered why it had not worked for him as well as it had for everyone else. The woman right in front of him raised her hand, and a yellow car stopped in front of her. She opened the door, sat down, and gave the driver her destination even as she shut the door behind her.
It was only then that Petre realized the car she had flagged down had writing on it and a light on the top. All Petre had to do was wait for another vehicle which looked like that one to come by, and he would try again. Luckily, he only had to wait a few seconds and, just like he had seen the woman do it, it worked for him.
“Where to, mister?” the driver asked as Petre sat down in the back seat.
“Creedmoor Psychiatric Center.”
The driver gave him a second look in the rearview mirror to make sure his passenger was not actually planning on being a patient before he pulled away from the curb and merged into the flow of traffic. “Are you visiting a friend there?”
“No, I’m meeting with Stephen Gascon. Do you know him?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“How long will it take to get there from here?”
“This time of day, it should take about twenty minutes.”
Petre nodded and kept his eyes scanning the crowds and buildings as they passed them. He could not understand why the people would want to live here in such a hustle and bustle. When he got back home, he planned on getting back onto his water craft and disappearing for a good long time to let the peace and quiet of the water ease his nerves.
Eventually, the car pulled up to a tall building and stopped in front of the double-door entrance. The driver turned around and said, “That’ll be forty-six, seventy-five.”
Petre looked at him with a blank stare.
“It’s time to pay up, mister!”
Petre had no idea what he was talking about and said, “Thanks for the ride.” He reached for the door handle and was surprised when the driver’s hand shot out and grabbed his other arm.
“Not so fast. You have to pay for the drive out here before you get out. Don’t make me call the cops!”
“But I don’t have anything to pay with,” Petre protested and tried to pull his sleeve out of the man’s grasp so he could get out of the car. “Let go of me!”
“Not until you pay. You can use a credit card, you know!” He lost his grip on his passenger’s sleeve and grabbed his radio. “Dispatch, please call the police and send them to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center. I have a customer who is refusing to pay.”
As soon as he was free, Petre shot out the door and rushed to the doors of the building. He wanted to be as far away from the crazy man as he could get. Stepping up to the front desk he waited for the middle-aged woman to get off of the phone before he spoke.
“May I help you?” she asked even as she noticed the commotion going on outside the entrance.
“I’m here to see Stephen Gascon.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No. I didn’t know I needed one.”
“Oh, yes. Dr. Gascon is a very busy man. Just one moment and I’ll find out when he will have any time to schedule you in. Are you a patient of his?”
“No.”
The woman nodded and picked up her phone. She dialed several digits and then conversed with someone on the other end of the line. “I’ll let him know. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and looked back at Petre and said, “Dr. Gascon will be out of the office until Wednesday. He won’t have any openings until Friday at 2:00 p.m. Will that work for you?”
Not knowing what the days of the week were called, Petre had no idea how long of a wait it was. He shook his head and said, “How many days is that? Where am I supposed to stay until then? This is unacceptable! I need to meet with him and then get back home! I don’t want to be hanging around this disgusting city for who knows how long.”
“It’s only four days away, sir. I’m sorry, it’s the best we can do for you without an appointment. I’m actually surprised you were able to get anything this week. Should I put you down for Friday then?”
“It sounds like I don’t have much choice, now, doesn’t it?” Petre said snidely.
“No, you don’t. Can I have your name, sir?” she asked with less enthusiasm because of his rudeness.
“Petre MacVeen.” He tapped his fingers on the countertop as he tried to figure out how to get out of this mess. “Do you have any sleeping accommodations here?”
“Only for patients.”
“What does it take to become a patient?”
“You have to admit yourself or have a court order admit you. Are you saying you want to admit yourself?”
Looking over his shoulder at the two men talking heatedly and moving closer to the door, Petre nodded and said, “Yes. Is there someplace private where we can make that happen?”
“Certainly,” she said as she stood up and grabbed a clipboard off of the countertop. “Right this way, Mr. MacVeen.”
“Petre,” he corrected as he hurried to catch up with her and put more distance between him and the cab driver’s anger.
“Okay, Petre, just step into this room and fill out this paper. I’ll have an orderly come in and admit you in a few minutes.” She stepped to the side and shut the door behind Petre when he moved into the room.
“Where did that man go?” the driver asked as he burst into the lobby.
“He’s being admitted. Is there a problem?” the receptionist asked.
“Yes, he skipped out on paying his fare.”
“I can take care of that for you,” she replied. She pulled out an envelope which contained donations for indigent patients and asked, “What is owed?”
“Forty-six, seventy-five,” he said belligerently.
The receptionist’s eyebrows rose at the amount, but she counted out the correct fare and handed it over to the man’s outstretched hand. “There you go. Have a nice day.”
“Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he had already turned to get back to his cab. He had already lost enough time at this stop, and his dispatcher was certain to yell at him for it. Next time a customer asked to come out here, he would tell them to get a different cab.
Petre heard the whole exchange through the flimsy door of the room. He felt pretty smug about coming up with a great plan to not only get out of that mess but also for finding a place to stay until he could meet with Dr. Gascon. Petre had no idea what a doctor was, but that was the title the receptionist had given to the man.
He looked down on the paper and filled in his name. Nothing else seemed to apply to him, so he left it all blank. Several minutes had passed before a man dressed all in white entered the room. Petre was forcibly reminded of the Elders by the man’s clothing, and he took an instant disliking to him.
“Let me look over your paperwork,” the big man said as he held out his hand to take it from Petre. He glanced at it and frowned. He looked back to Petre, offering the paperwork back to him, and said, “You need to finish filling this out before you can be admitted.”
“I put in everything I could,” he replied with a smile.
“All you entered was your name. What is your address?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Fine, give me a former address, then.”
“I don’t have one.”
“What are your symptoms? Why are you being admitted?”
“I need a place to stay until Friday.”
“This isn’t a hotel,” he looked down at the name written, “Petre. This is a mental health hospital. You need to have a valid reason for being admitted.”
Petre remained silent and simply glared at the man.
“How come you don’t have any addresses? Are you homeless?”
“I don’t know what that means here.”
“What do you mean by ‘here’? It means the same everywhere. Where are you from?”
“A different world, one I’m sure you’ve never heard of,” Petre spoke argumentatively.
The orderly’s eyebrows rose, and he was beginning to realize this man really did need to be admitted if he thought he was from a different world. He wrote something speedily on the notes section and signed his own name at the bottom of the form. “Fine. Follow me, and I’ll get you settled in your room.” He turned, opened the door, and waited for Petre to precede him from the room before he stepped beside him and led the way to the elevators.
Once the doors shut and he selected the thirteenth floor, he began his usual speech. “Lunch is served at 11:30, dinner is at 5:00.” The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to a wide, white corridor. They exited and turned to the left. They only had to walk a few feet before the orderly stopped, pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door to Petre’s room. “This is your room,” he said as he pulled open the door and waited for Petre to enter.
“It’s pretty plain in there. Do you have something nicer?” Petre could hardly imagine spending any amount of time in the plain, white room with only a bed and a chair in it. A window would have gone a long way to making it more welcoming.
“This isn’t the Ritz; this is a hospital.” He was becoming impatient, so he grabbed Petre’s arm and propelled him into the room. Without waiting for any other excuses, he used his key to lock the door again.
“Hey!” Petre yelled as he heard the lock being turned. “You can’t lock me in here! Let me out right now.” He banged on the door a few times before he recalled he had no other place to go. Turning around, he walked over to the bed and sat down on the lumpy mattress. “I should have stayed in another hotel. Oh well, at least I’m already at the place where Dr. Gascon works. As soon as he gets here, I’ll be on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE TRIP TO the jail was silent. Nobody knew what they could say that would make the drive any less depressing, so they kept their own counsel. Luckily, Chris had received directions, so they drove straight to the jail and parked right outside the main entrance. Chris got out of the car and went around the front to get Diane’s door for her.
Diane took the extra few seconds to check her makeup in the mirror one last time. She had been crying before they left and she wanted to make sure all evidence of it had been erased. The last thing Carrie needed was to see her mother falling apart and not remaining strong. She would be the rock her child needed if it were the last thing she did that day.
Amanda patted her mother’s shoulder for support before opening her door and getting out of the vehicle and standing beside her father. “What time are visiting hours?”
“We’ll find out when we get in there. Nobody seemed to know for certain.” He put his hand out for Diane to hold as they walked to the front doors. Again, Chris held open the door while Amanda and Diane entered ahead of him. They only had a few steps to take before they had to empty their pockets, put their purses on the conveyor belt, and walk through a metal detector.
Amanda had never seen such a thing before, and she was more than a little curious why such a small town would need something so extreme. She turned and saw the same expression on her mother’s face as well. She thought better about asking anything about it until after they were well away from the jail. The last thing they needed was to get turned away because of their curiosity.
Once they were through the initial screening, they came to an information window with a bored attendant. “How can I help you,” she said drolly.
Chris leaned forward and said, “We’d like to visit with Carrie Covington. We were told she’s being held here.”
“One moment while I check the intake records.” She turned away and tapped out several things on her computer. “I’m sorry, she’s not here anymore. After her indictment hearing, she was moved over to county.”
“What?” Diane almost screamed.
Chris shushed her and then asked more calmly, even though he was far from feeling calm, “Is she allowed visitors there?”
“Yes, unless she’s in solitary. Would you like me to get you the address?”
“Please.”
The woman found the proper business card and handed it to Chris.
“Thank you,” he said as he turned away. He practically dragged Diane away from the window as she clearly wanted to ask more questions which the woman would not have answers to anyway. It was better to get them all back to the car before Diane really exploded and caused them more trouble.
“Let go of my arm, Chris!” Diane spoke through clenched teeth as she tugged her arm free of her husband’s grasp. She was seething with rage and was starting to see white streaks on the sides of her vision. Once she was seated in the passenger seat of the truck, she turned on her husband and accused, “How could you embarrass me like that?”
“I was trying to keep you from getting yourself in trouble.” He spoke calmly as he looked down at the business card to read the address of where they needed to go.
“How could they have already sentenced her?” Diane screamed.
“It wasn’t a sentencing; it was an indictment hearing. All they did was bring her in front of the judge and read the charges against her and asked her to give her plea. It’s just the first step in the process.” Chris turned on the ignition and looked behind them, preparing to back out of the parking space.
“What are you now, a lawyer? How do you know any of this?” Diane accused, unreasonable in her anger.
