Double Dose, page 25
(“Jason Tadhak is what happened. He’s not human.”)
“What?”
(“Shhh!”)
Hey, I couldn’t help it. You can’t be serious.
(“Dead serious. When I tried to enter him to see what I could do, I was hit with this unimaginably fierce neural blast that knocked me unconscious.”)
Wait-wait-wait. Jason’s not human? Then what is he?
(“No idea. Didn’t get far enough in to find out. He’s not a robot or android, I can tell you that. He’s organic but not like any organism I can imagine. What you see is not what you get. Merely looks human. Inside he’s entirely something else.”)
Daley closed her eyes and tried to fathom this. Totally out of left field. And yet…maybe not all that far out.
He knocked you out?
(“Don’t know if it was deliberate or a reflex or just the way he’s built. When I finally came to I realized two days had passed. But I was merely aware, otherwise I was still paralyzed and voiceless.”)
Oh.
So…you were aware when I was…
(“Toying with the Webley? Yes.”)
I wasn’t “toying.” You weren’t scared I’d pull the trigger?
(“Horrified. When you stuck that muzzle against your throat and angled it up at your brainstem, I thought it was all over. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Please, don’t ever do anything like that again.”)
No worry. I’m over it.
(“Glad to hear it. I became aware again during your morning meeting in the hospital—which, by the way, couldn’t possibly have gone any worse.”)
Tell me about it. If I’d known that CEO, that Sandoval, was planning a character assassination…
(“I think it’s time we resurrected your character.”)
You mean…?
(“Yes. Time for Doctor Sandoval to develop a taste for crow. But I’m not ready yet. Getting stronger by the minute but I won’t be up to battling the horrors for a while yet.”)
How long is “a while”?
(“I need a few hours, at least.”)
Daley hadn’t realized how much she wanted this until just now…when it became a real possibility.
It’s a good three-hour drive from here…how about we leave now and you recuperate along the way?
(“Let’s go.”)
66
“How do I look?” Daley said.
Pard, dressed in his usual jeans and boots and flannel shirt, leaned against the stove. This was the first time he’d become visible since the incident with Jason on Sunday. Earlier he’d said he hadn’t had the capacity to create an image for her. He’d kept silent for most of the ride down from LA, gathering his strength, reintegrating with her nervous system and all her physiological functions, and now seemed ready to go.
(“Exactly as you did Sunday morning when we were also readying to head to the medical center.”)
The Healerina outfit…all that black and the shock of white hair on top…
“I think this makes a statement.”
(“They’re not going to recognize you at first. They’ve never seen you with your head bare. But after we’re through today, they’re never going to forget you.”)
That was the way she wanted to play it. They’d had a field day screwing with her reputation. Front page, all the way. But retractions tended to get relegated to the bottom corner of an inconsequential section. Not this time. She was going to be so damn photogenic they couldn’t not put her on the front page.
Pard added, (“Are you sure you want to cut such a highly recognizable figure?”)
She nodded. “I do. Because that’ll make it easier for me when I don’t want to be recognized. Put on a mousy brown wig, sunglasses, and ordinary baggy clothes and no one will even see me, let alone recognize me.”
Someone knocked on her door. She stepped to the kitchen window and saw Arturo—greasy apron, backward Padres cap, and all—standing outside on the landing, holding a paper sack. Strange…
When she opened the door he grinned, saying, “Hope I’m interrupting something.”
“Not a bit.”
“Oh? I thought I heard you talking.”
This was happening more and more.
“Oh, I just finished on the phone.”
He held up the sack. “Breakfast.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You told me how much you liked the breakfast special so I made you another.”
(“Oh, yum. Taylor Ham with egg and cheese.”)
“Thanks so much, Arturo.” She stepped back. “Come on in. This is so unexpected.”
“Well, I thought I’d save you the trip over. Especially after, you know…”
“The wonderful things being said about me?”
“Yeah. Don’t matter. You got friends here, Daley.”
She turned away as her eyes filled and her throat tightened. She could barely speak, but managed, “You don’t know how much I’ve needed to hear that.”
“Well, it’s true.” He placed the sack on the kitchen table. “This one’s on the house, by the way.”
She turned back to him. “You’re really working hard on making me cry, aren’t you.”
“Nah. Hate to see a woman cry. Hey, you got your work clothes on. That mean you’re opening today?”
“Nope. Heading for the medical center.”
“Really?” His expression said he didn’t think that was such a good idea.
“Yep. They haven’t seen the last of me yet.”
The grin returned. “Gonna give ’em hell? You go girl.”
She lifted the sack. “I’ll eat this on the way.”
He followed her down the back stairs to her car, she found Juana standing at the bottom. Arturo left with a wave to go back to work.
Juana said, “I waited for you as long as I could yesterday. I wanted to see how it went. I had to leave but I heard about it later.”
“Yeah, a disaster.”
“I’m so sorry. A lot of bad feelings out there.”
“How do you feel?”
She grinned. “You don’t get rid of me so easy.”
Another rush of emotion. Damn!
(“You’ve touched a lot more people than you realize. And you’re about to touch a lot more.”)
Juana pointed to the Cahuilla art stone dangling at Daley’s throat. “I see you’ve put that to good use.”
“Well,” she said, fingering it, “you said it’s me. Might as well wear it.” She moved toward her car. “I’ve got to get moving…”
“I’ll just be a minute,” Juana said. “There’s someone here I think you should know about.”
Daley looked around and saw no one. “Who?”
“My nephew.” She turned and called out, “Jeffrey!”
A burly man wearing a battered Stetson stepped around the corner. He looked vaguely familiar but Daley couldn’t place him.
“Why do you want—?”
(“That’s Karma Kendrick,”) Pard said. (“He’s shaved off his beard.”)
She took an involuntary step back. “Karma! Didn’t I warn you—?” She swung on Juana. “He’s your nephew?”
“My sister’s boy,” she said quickly. “Look, I know what he did—”
“You have no idea!”
She lowered her voice. “He told me he killed you.”
The words jolted Daley. So surreal to hear someone say that.
“That’s exactly what he did.”
It seemed to take Juana a while to absorb that—as if something she hadn’t truly believed had just been confirmed. After a pause, she said, “He also told me you came back from the dead. Is that true?”
Daley hesitated. “In a way…”
Juana stared at her. “He says you’re a goddess and I’m beginning to believe he may not be too far off.”
Me, a goddess? Me?
(“I gave him a taste of the horrors I’d seen in Timothy Blaine, remember? It may have unhinged him a little. Well, that and seeing someone he’d stabbed in the heart rise from the dead, of course.”)
Daley slashed her hand through the air. “Get him out of my sight. I never want—”
Kendrick bowed his head. “My life is yours, goddess. I’m here to protect you.”
“What? This is crazy!”
“Maybe,” Juana said with a shrug, “but he’s totally devoted to you. He says you could have banished him to hell but you let him go. He says you gave him a second chance to earn his way back into your good graces.”
Where’d he get that idea?
“If I need to be protected, it’s from him, not by him.”
Juana’s gaze bored into her. “If you’re going to El Centro to do what I suspect, you will be attracting all sorts of people. You will need someone to fend for you. I am worried for you and I will vouch for him.”
(“Maybe she’s got a point.”)
Not you too?
(“That’s Karma Kendrick saying his life is yours. The old Karma couldn’t fake that. This is someone new.”)
You really think I should give him a chance?
(“Look at him. You can’t buy that kind of devotion. He’s obviously undergone a sea change.”)
In the desert?
(“Apparently.”)
She trusted Pard’s judgement and she knew Juana was on her side…
“Okay, Karma,” she said. “We’ll give it a try.”
He backed up a step but still kept his head down. “Thank you. But it’s not ‘Karma’ anymore. You told Karma you never wanted to see him again, so Karma Kendrick is dead. It’s Jeffrey now.”
“If you say so. But you stay here.”
I hope I don’t regret this.
67
On the road to El Centro, Daley said, “Maybe if I’d run into Arturo yesterday, I wouldn’t have felt the need for that pistol.”
She prayed today would turn out better—lots better—than yesterday. Back in Tarzana she’d left a note for Gram promising to make things right. She hoped this would do it. She couldn’t bear the thought of Gram hurting because of her.
Pard, in the passenger seat, said, (“It seems you’ve made real friends here, Daley. People who’ll stick by you.”)
“I also had people I thought were friends let me down when I was counting on them.”
(“You mean Rhys.”)
“Who else?”
(“The sting of those nasty words hasn’t left you. You’re still hurting. I can feel it.”)
“Let’s not talk about him.”
As she pulled out the foil-wrapped sandwich—still warm—a totally unrelated thought hit her.
“Holy crap!”
(“Now what?”)
“You weren’t around Sunday afternoon—it happened after your encounter with Jason Tadhak—but Billy Marks tracked me down here and got a little rough with me when I refused to play ball with his horrors scam. Grabbed me and shoved me down on the back steps.”
(“I had no idea. I’ll find the memory when I have time.”)
“But here’s the thing: Billy was murdered in his motel room that night. Stabbed to death. The theory is that a disgruntled mark got even with him, but you and I know from experience how handy Kendrick is with a knife.”
(“Ah, I see. You’re thinking that if your self-appointed protector had been watching and saw this happen, he would have taken matters into his own hands. You’re a goddess after all—his goddess—and no one is allowed to defile a goddess.”)
“Exactly what I’m thinking.”
(“We should ask him when we get back.”)
“Maybe we shouldn’t. I want as little contact with him as possible. And frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.”
Not that she felt anything at all for Billy Marks. He’d been a cold-blooded killer who’d murdered her father. What goes around had finally come around…and landed squarely on him.
As they entered El Centro she spotted an auto parts store and on impulse pulled in.
Pard said, (“What…?”)
“I guess I can’t tell you to wait here, but this’ll only a minute.”
She hopped out and hurried inside where she bought a pair of black leather driving gloves.
(“Completing the ensemble, I see.”)
She wriggled her fingers into them and got the car moving again, saying, “Can’t have too much black, right?”
(“I’ll treat that as a rhetorical question.”)
“Sounds like you’re back to your old self.”
(“I’m fairly close to some semblance of what might be called ‘normal,’ and I should be able to stay that way as long as I don’t have another encounter with Jason Tadhak.”)
“I did some thinking about Jason on the drive from LA.”
(“Thinking…always a dangerous thing.”)
“Oh, you are back, aren’t you. Anyway, aliens in Nespodee Springs…it boggles the mind. I mean, why there?”
(“My guess is it’s connected to the Visitors.”)
“I thought we didn’t believe in the Visitors.”
(“We didn’t believe in aliens among us either, but…”)
“I see your point.”
(“So maybe they’re an advance team for the Visitors. According to Rhys, the Tadhaks are practically giving away the extra energy Elis Pendry needs for his tower.”)
“That reminds me: You need to see the film.”
(“I have your memory of it. That’s fine for now.”)
“Jason being an alien explains why his family wouldn’t allow him to be taken to the hospital after the accident. I’ll bet all the Tadhaks are aliens.”
(“I think you can count on that. It also explains how that building on the windfarm is bigger on the inside than the outside—alien technology.”)
“But it doesn’t explain why he’s stockpiling all that energy.”
(“Like I said: Maybe to enable the Pendrys. Then again, maybe they’re following the hallowed immigrant tradition of working hard and sending the excess home.”)
“You have any idea where their home might be?”
(“I can’t even imagine.”)
Daley hesitated bringing it up, but since they were on the subject of Jason…
“Don’t laugh, but I thought you left me for him.”
(“Jason? Well, first off, I don’t laugh. Have you ever heard me laugh?”)
“Come to think of it…no.”
And she decided right then she didn’t want to…ever. She imagined it an appalling sound.
(“Secondly, why would I want to do such a thing?”)
She shrugged, a little embarrassed now. “I don’t know. Maybe you found his nervous system more attractive or accommodating. You know…better suited to you.”
Pard made a disgusted face. (“Really, Daley? After all we’ve been through? If I had feelings they’d be hurt.”)
Well, yeah, they had been through a lot. He’d pretty much brought her back from death, but still…
“I thought maybe you were tired of me and wanted to try someone new.”
(“I am not some sort of neurological lothario. As I told you back at the start—I guess you weren’t listening so I’ll tell you again: I can’t leave you, Daley. You and I are stuck with each other. And even if I could leave, I wouldn’t. We make a good team. I happen to like you and I enjoy being with you.”)
To hear this after all the rejection and name-calling and…and spittle she’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours…Daley’s throat constricted again and wouldn’t allow her to speak right away. So she threw a thought at him.
I missed you.
(“Of course you did.”)
That brought her voice back—real quick. “‘Of course’ I did? That’s a helluva thing to say.”
(“I think it’s an obvious thing to say. Why wouldn’t you miss your best friend?”)
Daley found no answer for that. She’d never had a best friend.
Until Pard.
68
As the medical center came into view, Daley said, “Are you sure you’re up to this, Pard?”
(“What? Curing the horrors?”) Much to her dismay, Pard shrugged. She wanted cocky confidence, not a noncommittal shrug. (“I can’t know for sure until I merge with someone and block that pineal-amygdala pathway, but I’m pretty sure.”)
Pretty sure…not exactly brimming with confidence.
(“I sense hesitation, Daley.”)
“Well, right now I’m ECRMC’s bête noire and—”
(“Delighted to see you making use of your augmented vocabulary.”)
Yeah, two months ago she would have had no idea what that term meant, which was great and all, but…
“If you’re through patting yourself on the back, I’ll continue.”
(“Go right ahead.”)
“Okay: As the official least-favorite person in there, it won’t take them long to recognize me. And if I go in and just hold hands with a patient and nothing happens, I’ll be demoted from just plain old run-of-the-mill scam artist to mentally deranged scam artist.”
(“I will do my damnedest to prevent that from happening, but I can’t swear it won’t.”)
She pulled into a parking spot in the visitor lot.
“Well, that’s certainly reassuring.”
(“The best I can do, I’m afraid. The only way we can know for sure is to try.”)
She sat and stared through the windshield at the medical center.
“Wow. You know, I went to sleep last night thinking things can only get better, but that’s not quite the case, is it.”
(“As long as you’re breathing, things can always get worse. But they can also get better. That place is full of people who need help, and we’re the only ones who can provide it.”)
“Maybe provide it.”
(“True enough. But they need us and that means we need to try.”)
She looked at him. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a good person?”
(“Of course not. No one even knows I exist. Which means that when we walk in there, it’s your reputation on the line, not mine. And I happen to know you’ve already decided to go. Which makes you the good person.”)
Yeah, she had indeed decided to go, hadn’t she. Ah, well…
“I’m thinking we go in through the emergency room. I’m pretty sure I can find my way to Doctor Milton’s office from there.”
“What makes you think he’ll want to get involved?”
“Because he’s convinced I’m connected to the three cures we did. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why, but he said it right to my face: ‘I know in my gut that you’re somehow at the bottom of all this.’ If he thinks I can answer his questions, he’ll help.”
“What?”
(“Shhh!”)
Hey, I couldn’t help it. You can’t be serious.
(“Dead serious. When I tried to enter him to see what I could do, I was hit with this unimaginably fierce neural blast that knocked me unconscious.”)
Wait-wait-wait. Jason’s not human? Then what is he?
(“No idea. Didn’t get far enough in to find out. He’s not a robot or android, I can tell you that. He’s organic but not like any organism I can imagine. What you see is not what you get. Merely looks human. Inside he’s entirely something else.”)
Daley closed her eyes and tried to fathom this. Totally out of left field. And yet…maybe not all that far out.
He knocked you out?
(“Don’t know if it was deliberate or a reflex or just the way he’s built. When I finally came to I realized two days had passed. But I was merely aware, otherwise I was still paralyzed and voiceless.”)
Oh.
So…you were aware when I was…
(“Toying with the Webley? Yes.”)
I wasn’t “toying.” You weren’t scared I’d pull the trigger?
(“Horrified. When you stuck that muzzle against your throat and angled it up at your brainstem, I thought it was all over. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Please, don’t ever do anything like that again.”)
No worry. I’m over it.
(“Glad to hear it. I became aware again during your morning meeting in the hospital—which, by the way, couldn’t possibly have gone any worse.”)
Tell me about it. If I’d known that CEO, that Sandoval, was planning a character assassination…
(“I think it’s time we resurrected your character.”)
You mean…?
(“Yes. Time for Doctor Sandoval to develop a taste for crow. But I’m not ready yet. Getting stronger by the minute but I won’t be up to battling the horrors for a while yet.”)
How long is “a while”?
(“I need a few hours, at least.”)
Daley hadn’t realized how much she wanted this until just now…when it became a real possibility.
It’s a good three-hour drive from here…how about we leave now and you recuperate along the way?
(“Let’s go.”)
66
“How do I look?” Daley said.
Pard, dressed in his usual jeans and boots and flannel shirt, leaned against the stove. This was the first time he’d become visible since the incident with Jason on Sunday. Earlier he’d said he hadn’t had the capacity to create an image for her. He’d kept silent for most of the ride down from LA, gathering his strength, reintegrating with her nervous system and all her physiological functions, and now seemed ready to go.
(“Exactly as you did Sunday morning when we were also readying to head to the medical center.”)
The Healerina outfit…all that black and the shock of white hair on top…
“I think this makes a statement.”
(“They’re not going to recognize you at first. They’ve never seen you with your head bare. But after we’re through today, they’re never going to forget you.”)
That was the way she wanted to play it. They’d had a field day screwing with her reputation. Front page, all the way. But retractions tended to get relegated to the bottom corner of an inconsequential section. Not this time. She was going to be so damn photogenic they couldn’t not put her on the front page.
Pard added, (“Are you sure you want to cut such a highly recognizable figure?”)
She nodded. “I do. Because that’ll make it easier for me when I don’t want to be recognized. Put on a mousy brown wig, sunglasses, and ordinary baggy clothes and no one will even see me, let alone recognize me.”
Someone knocked on her door. She stepped to the kitchen window and saw Arturo—greasy apron, backward Padres cap, and all—standing outside on the landing, holding a paper sack. Strange…
When she opened the door he grinned, saying, “Hope I’m interrupting something.”
“Not a bit.”
“Oh? I thought I heard you talking.”
This was happening more and more.
“Oh, I just finished on the phone.”
He held up the sack. “Breakfast.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You told me how much you liked the breakfast special so I made you another.”
(“Oh, yum. Taylor Ham with egg and cheese.”)
“Thanks so much, Arturo.” She stepped back. “Come on in. This is so unexpected.”
“Well, I thought I’d save you the trip over. Especially after, you know…”
“The wonderful things being said about me?”
“Yeah. Don’t matter. You got friends here, Daley.”
She turned away as her eyes filled and her throat tightened. She could barely speak, but managed, “You don’t know how much I’ve needed to hear that.”
“Well, it’s true.” He placed the sack on the kitchen table. “This one’s on the house, by the way.”
She turned back to him. “You’re really working hard on making me cry, aren’t you.”
“Nah. Hate to see a woman cry. Hey, you got your work clothes on. That mean you’re opening today?”
“Nope. Heading for the medical center.”
“Really?” His expression said he didn’t think that was such a good idea.
“Yep. They haven’t seen the last of me yet.”
The grin returned. “Gonna give ’em hell? You go girl.”
She lifted the sack. “I’ll eat this on the way.”
He followed her down the back stairs to her car, she found Juana standing at the bottom. Arturo left with a wave to go back to work.
Juana said, “I waited for you as long as I could yesterday. I wanted to see how it went. I had to leave but I heard about it later.”
“Yeah, a disaster.”
“I’m so sorry. A lot of bad feelings out there.”
“How do you feel?”
She grinned. “You don’t get rid of me so easy.”
Another rush of emotion. Damn!
(“You’ve touched a lot more people than you realize. And you’re about to touch a lot more.”)
Juana pointed to the Cahuilla art stone dangling at Daley’s throat. “I see you’ve put that to good use.”
“Well,” she said, fingering it, “you said it’s me. Might as well wear it.” She moved toward her car. “I’ve got to get moving…”
“I’ll just be a minute,” Juana said. “There’s someone here I think you should know about.”
Daley looked around and saw no one. “Who?”
“My nephew.” She turned and called out, “Jeffrey!”
A burly man wearing a battered Stetson stepped around the corner. He looked vaguely familiar but Daley couldn’t place him.
“Why do you want—?”
(“That’s Karma Kendrick,”) Pard said. (“He’s shaved off his beard.”)
She took an involuntary step back. “Karma! Didn’t I warn you—?” She swung on Juana. “He’s your nephew?”
“My sister’s boy,” she said quickly. “Look, I know what he did—”
“You have no idea!”
She lowered her voice. “He told me he killed you.”
The words jolted Daley. So surreal to hear someone say that.
“That’s exactly what he did.”
It seemed to take Juana a while to absorb that—as if something she hadn’t truly believed had just been confirmed. After a pause, she said, “He also told me you came back from the dead. Is that true?”
Daley hesitated. “In a way…”
Juana stared at her. “He says you’re a goddess and I’m beginning to believe he may not be too far off.”
Me, a goddess? Me?
(“I gave him a taste of the horrors I’d seen in Timothy Blaine, remember? It may have unhinged him a little. Well, that and seeing someone he’d stabbed in the heart rise from the dead, of course.”)
Daley slashed her hand through the air. “Get him out of my sight. I never want—”
Kendrick bowed his head. “My life is yours, goddess. I’m here to protect you.”
“What? This is crazy!”
“Maybe,” Juana said with a shrug, “but he’s totally devoted to you. He says you could have banished him to hell but you let him go. He says you gave him a second chance to earn his way back into your good graces.”
Where’d he get that idea?
“If I need to be protected, it’s from him, not by him.”
Juana’s gaze bored into her. “If you’re going to El Centro to do what I suspect, you will be attracting all sorts of people. You will need someone to fend for you. I am worried for you and I will vouch for him.”
(“Maybe she’s got a point.”)
Not you too?
(“That’s Karma Kendrick saying his life is yours. The old Karma couldn’t fake that. This is someone new.”)
You really think I should give him a chance?
(“Look at him. You can’t buy that kind of devotion. He’s obviously undergone a sea change.”)
In the desert?
(“Apparently.”)
She trusted Pard’s judgement and she knew Juana was on her side…
“Okay, Karma,” she said. “We’ll give it a try.”
He backed up a step but still kept his head down. “Thank you. But it’s not ‘Karma’ anymore. You told Karma you never wanted to see him again, so Karma Kendrick is dead. It’s Jeffrey now.”
“If you say so. But you stay here.”
I hope I don’t regret this.
67
On the road to El Centro, Daley said, “Maybe if I’d run into Arturo yesterday, I wouldn’t have felt the need for that pistol.”
She prayed today would turn out better—lots better—than yesterday. Back in Tarzana she’d left a note for Gram promising to make things right. She hoped this would do it. She couldn’t bear the thought of Gram hurting because of her.
Pard, in the passenger seat, said, (“It seems you’ve made real friends here, Daley. People who’ll stick by you.”)
“I also had people I thought were friends let me down when I was counting on them.”
(“You mean Rhys.”)
“Who else?”
(“The sting of those nasty words hasn’t left you. You’re still hurting. I can feel it.”)
“Let’s not talk about him.”
As she pulled out the foil-wrapped sandwich—still warm—a totally unrelated thought hit her.
“Holy crap!”
(“Now what?”)
“You weren’t around Sunday afternoon—it happened after your encounter with Jason Tadhak—but Billy Marks tracked me down here and got a little rough with me when I refused to play ball with his horrors scam. Grabbed me and shoved me down on the back steps.”
(“I had no idea. I’ll find the memory when I have time.”)
“But here’s the thing: Billy was murdered in his motel room that night. Stabbed to death. The theory is that a disgruntled mark got even with him, but you and I know from experience how handy Kendrick is with a knife.”
(“Ah, I see. You’re thinking that if your self-appointed protector had been watching and saw this happen, he would have taken matters into his own hands. You’re a goddess after all—his goddess—and no one is allowed to defile a goddess.”)
“Exactly what I’m thinking.”
(“We should ask him when we get back.”)
“Maybe we shouldn’t. I want as little contact with him as possible. And frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.”
Not that she felt anything at all for Billy Marks. He’d been a cold-blooded killer who’d murdered her father. What goes around had finally come around…and landed squarely on him.
As they entered El Centro she spotted an auto parts store and on impulse pulled in.
Pard said, (“What…?”)
“I guess I can’t tell you to wait here, but this’ll only a minute.”
She hopped out and hurried inside where she bought a pair of black leather driving gloves.
(“Completing the ensemble, I see.”)
She wriggled her fingers into them and got the car moving again, saying, “Can’t have too much black, right?”
(“I’ll treat that as a rhetorical question.”)
“Sounds like you’re back to your old self.”
(“I’m fairly close to some semblance of what might be called ‘normal,’ and I should be able to stay that way as long as I don’t have another encounter with Jason Tadhak.”)
“I did some thinking about Jason on the drive from LA.”
(“Thinking…always a dangerous thing.”)
“Oh, you are back, aren’t you. Anyway, aliens in Nespodee Springs…it boggles the mind. I mean, why there?”
(“My guess is it’s connected to the Visitors.”)
“I thought we didn’t believe in the Visitors.”
(“We didn’t believe in aliens among us either, but…”)
“I see your point.”
(“So maybe they’re an advance team for the Visitors. According to Rhys, the Tadhaks are practically giving away the extra energy Elis Pendry needs for his tower.”)
“That reminds me: You need to see the film.”
(“I have your memory of it. That’s fine for now.”)
“Jason being an alien explains why his family wouldn’t allow him to be taken to the hospital after the accident. I’ll bet all the Tadhaks are aliens.”
(“I think you can count on that. It also explains how that building on the windfarm is bigger on the inside than the outside—alien technology.”)
“But it doesn’t explain why he’s stockpiling all that energy.”
(“Like I said: Maybe to enable the Pendrys. Then again, maybe they’re following the hallowed immigrant tradition of working hard and sending the excess home.”)
“You have any idea where their home might be?”
(“I can’t even imagine.”)
Daley hesitated bringing it up, but since they were on the subject of Jason…
“Don’t laugh, but I thought you left me for him.”
(“Jason? Well, first off, I don’t laugh. Have you ever heard me laugh?”)
“Come to think of it…no.”
And she decided right then she didn’t want to…ever. She imagined it an appalling sound.
(“Secondly, why would I want to do such a thing?”)
She shrugged, a little embarrassed now. “I don’t know. Maybe you found his nervous system more attractive or accommodating. You know…better suited to you.”
Pard made a disgusted face. (“Really, Daley? After all we’ve been through? If I had feelings they’d be hurt.”)
Well, yeah, they had been through a lot. He’d pretty much brought her back from death, but still…
“I thought maybe you were tired of me and wanted to try someone new.”
(“I am not some sort of neurological lothario. As I told you back at the start—I guess you weren’t listening so I’ll tell you again: I can’t leave you, Daley. You and I are stuck with each other. And even if I could leave, I wouldn’t. We make a good team. I happen to like you and I enjoy being with you.”)
To hear this after all the rejection and name-calling and…and spittle she’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours…Daley’s throat constricted again and wouldn’t allow her to speak right away. So she threw a thought at him.
I missed you.
(“Of course you did.”)
That brought her voice back—real quick. “‘Of course’ I did? That’s a helluva thing to say.”
(“I think it’s an obvious thing to say. Why wouldn’t you miss your best friend?”)
Daley found no answer for that. She’d never had a best friend.
Until Pard.
68
As the medical center came into view, Daley said, “Are you sure you’re up to this, Pard?”
(“What? Curing the horrors?”) Much to her dismay, Pard shrugged. She wanted cocky confidence, not a noncommittal shrug. (“I can’t know for sure until I merge with someone and block that pineal-amygdala pathway, but I’m pretty sure.”)
Pretty sure…not exactly brimming with confidence.
(“I sense hesitation, Daley.”)
“Well, right now I’m ECRMC’s bête noire and—”
(“Delighted to see you making use of your augmented vocabulary.”)
Yeah, two months ago she would have had no idea what that term meant, which was great and all, but…
“If you’re through patting yourself on the back, I’ll continue.”
(“Go right ahead.”)
“Okay: As the official least-favorite person in there, it won’t take them long to recognize me. And if I go in and just hold hands with a patient and nothing happens, I’ll be demoted from just plain old run-of-the-mill scam artist to mentally deranged scam artist.”
(“I will do my damnedest to prevent that from happening, but I can’t swear it won’t.”)
She pulled into a parking spot in the visitor lot.
“Well, that’s certainly reassuring.”
(“The best I can do, I’m afraid. The only way we can know for sure is to try.”)
She sat and stared through the windshield at the medical center.
“Wow. You know, I went to sleep last night thinking things can only get better, but that’s not quite the case, is it.”
(“As long as you’re breathing, things can always get worse. But they can also get better. That place is full of people who need help, and we’re the only ones who can provide it.”)
“Maybe provide it.”
(“True enough. But they need us and that means we need to try.”)
She looked at him. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a good person?”
(“Of course not. No one even knows I exist. Which means that when we walk in there, it’s your reputation on the line, not mine. And I happen to know you’ve already decided to go. Which makes you the good person.”)
Yeah, she had indeed decided to go, hadn’t she. Ah, well…
“I’m thinking we go in through the emergency room. I’m pretty sure I can find my way to Doctor Milton’s office from there.”
“What makes you think he’ll want to get involved?”
“Because he’s convinced I’m connected to the three cures we did. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why, but he said it right to my face: ‘I know in my gut that you’re somehow at the bottom of all this.’ If he thinks I can answer his questions, he’ll help.”
