Dangerous Lunatics
by Alex Reynard
"Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the edge.
"I'm trying not to lose my head.
"It's like a jungle sometimes. It makes me wonder
"How I keep from going under."
-Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five, "The Message"
*****
BOOK TWO:
THE DAWNING OF REALIZATION
-MONSOON-
T'halu Takaiikelawei was one of the very few people in the world with a good excuse for owning an SUV.
It was the only thing he could fit in.
He pulled into his usual parking space, bright and ridiculously early the next morning, hoping desperately that someone upstairs had already made a pot of coffee. He yawned, which is like saying the Earth cracked open and thousands of screaming innocents fell into the abyssal crevasse.
As he walked up the path to the entrance, he spotted his co-worker, Clifford Markman, dragging on a cigarette before his shift started.
"Y'know, those things are killing your body," the mountain said in passing.
Clifford shrugged, his dark eyes nearly hidden by his deep, wrinkled brows. "Who wants to live longer in a crappy world like this?"
Monsoon rolled his eyes. Typical Clifford. Not the kind of guy you'd want to invite to a swingin' party.
The usual three secretaries smiled and waved to him as he passed, then started giggling and talking about his bod as soon as they *thought* he was out of earshot. Also typical. Monsoon smiled a little to himself. He got in the elevator and headed up to Ward F.
The hospital board loved him. Not in any kind of emotional way, but in the fact that the big islander lived alone, had no family in this country (not anymore, at least), and didn't seem to mind staying single. Hence, he was willing to work double shifts twice as much as any other member of the staff. And they didn't have to pay him much either.
Monsoon said brief hellos to the night nurse and her henchmen as they scuttled about, getting ready to go home and snag some sleep. Thankfully, there _was_ a pot of coffee brewing, and Monsoon downed a cup in an alarmingly short period of time. Some of the nurses claimed he had an asbestos throat. The funny thing was, he actually had done a bit of fire-eating as a kid. His uncle had been part of a tribal dance group and had taught his young nephew a few basics. Every now and then, back at his old job at the city's receiving hospital, he'd amaze the poor pups in the children's ward by lighting a whole pack of matches and dousing it with his mouth.
He liked kids. Kids in general were more decent than adults, he'd observed. Sure, kids could be cruel, but they also seemed to grasp reality better. An odd thing to say, given that most children lived in a world of cartoons and video games. But at the same time, most children hadn't had the worst parts of life drilled into them over and over and over again. They were more accepting of simple truths. Pure wisdom, instead of facts and 'intelligence'. Monsoon respected that.
And too, of all the patients he'd seen in his ten years as a registered nurse, it always astounded him how kids naturally seemed to handle the worst injuries and illnesses with a hell of a lot more maturity, hope, and good cheer than adults in the very same condition ever could. Monsoon respected that too.
So when receiving got shut down in favor of a new hospital in a different part of town, Monsoon found himself out of a job. Just as quickly though, he was sent a letter from a new children's mental health facility that would be opening up within the month. They were practically begging him to become a part of their security force. The pay was the same and the health plan was better. No brainer.
After all the usual morning rigmarole was gone through, it was time to wake up the rugrats. Seven a.m. on the dot. It was just part of the rules, but Monsoon had always found it rather cruel. Let the poor kids sleep in a bit, he thought. Didn't they deserve at least that little bit of compensation for being locked up in a place like this?
The mountain walked along down the hallway, knocking on doors and calling out names. To his surprise, a little raccoon girl named Karen was already up, and looked like she had been for hours.
She looked frazzled as heck, but still managed a polite smile for him. "Hi."
"Hey there. You look like you've been up a while."
"How can you tell?"
He couldn't resist. "You've got dark circles around your eyes."
Karen opened her mouth to say something, then got the joke. She giggled like windchimes in a summer breeze. "Of *course* I do! I'm a raccoon!"
"Really? Gosh, I thought so! Tell Holly it's wake-up time too. Catch a shower quick: it's first come, first served. Breakfast's in thirty."
She nodded. "Okey dokey."
Smiling now, Monsoon moved down the line. Brad and Tyler's room was right next door. He grimaced, hoping the skinny little mouse kid wouldn't be 'playing possum' again. He'd just about had a heart attack the first time he'd found him like that.
Instead, Tyler came awake instantly at the sound of the knock on the door. He yawned melodramatically. "Yo, 'Soon."
"Morning, Tyler. Brad?" The grey tom was curled up in an astoundingly uncomfortable-looking position. His left leg stuck way out, his blankets were a tangled mess and one of his arms was bent at a severe angle behind his back. "Hey, pretzel-boy! You alive?"
Brad grunted and squirmed a bit. Moaning like the dead, he uncoiled himself, his joints popping a few times, and managed to sit up. He looked like his brain had been left back on the pillow.
"Not a morning furson, huh?" Monsoon remarked.
"Nuh," said Brad.
"A nice hot shower'll wake you up."
A neuron in Brad's brain fired and he had a cohesive thought. "Wait. Doc'er Beatrix said I cuh only go out fer meals," he slurred.
Monsoon frowned. "If she doesn't make an exception for bathing, I'll raise hell. Promise."
Brad nodded. "Thanks."
"I'll get him up, Big Kahuna," Tyler pledged. "Even if I have to use a shovel."
"You might," Brad noted.
Monsoon chuckled and went off down the hallway.
A couple more doors brought him to Keith's room, which was right across from the nurse's station in case of emergency. He was one of the minority of patients on the ward without a roommate. This was on purpose. "Keith, come on. Knock knock."
Keith muttered something incomprehensible. His head was stuffed under his pillow.
"Wakey wakey, eggs 'n bakey. Come on, don't make me tip the bed over."
"Fine! Fine. Shit..." Keith reluctantly crawled out from under the covers. He scratched his back and sides. Even his pajamas were black.
"Hey," the mountain said.
The fox looked up. "Yeah?"
"I don't want to hear about you getting into any trouble with Brad again today, alright?"
Keith's ears flattened angrily, but he nodded cooperatively nonetheless. He respected Monsoon. Monsoon was fair. The mountain didn't treat him like something that belonged in a sideshow (even though he himself sometimes thought it was the only fitting place for him). And it hadn't even been said in a 'you better be good' tone. More like, 'I really want to believe you're better than this'. Keith didn't get to hear that a lot. He at least tried to live up to it when he did.
"Alright?" Monsoon asked again, just to be sure.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled.
"Okay then. You're a good kid, Keith. Or at least, you can be when you want to." Monsoon left the room and went on with his morning rounds.
Keith felt a little lump in his throat. 'You're a good kid'. When was the last time he'd heard that? Honestly, he had no idea. But it felt nice to hear it anyway. Even if he knew it wasn't true.
*****
-KAREN-
The cool, cool water poured down over the little raccoon's small, slender frame. Karen had always preferred chilly showers to hot ones. She wasn't sure why though. It just seemed kinda fun to shiver while she toweled off.
She got a good lather of fur-shampoo and thought about last night's dream.
Always-Jimmy-Never-James. What kind of a name was that?
Who the heck had that guy been? She knew it wasn't rational to act as if he were a real furson. But secretly, sometimes she really did believe her dreams weren't just dreams. Sometimes it seemed an unflinching certainty that they must be visions. Nobody dreamed about the same thing every single night of their lives, she told herself. Not even about death. It just wasn't normal. So maybe the dead in her dreams were real. The idea frightened her. But to some small, barely acknowledged part of her soul, it also intrigued her.
What if she really could help them?
What would that mean? What would it be like to be in communication with the dead? And if her dreams were any indication of what the afterlife was like, then what the heck kind of screwed up fate lurked beyond death's door anyway?
Karen ran her fingers through her fur. She soaped up her legs and her little paws, even getting between her toes.
She wondered if Always-Jimmy-Never-James was a real furson. She wondered if the old lady was too.
Drawing upon a small well of bravery that had always been inside her, even if it was usually ignored, she decided to try an experiment.
~~~
Alf the blue-haired fox was there again to serve her breakfast. This time there was a giant vat of scrambled eggs that looked like foam rubber, plus blackened bacon, sausage patties that resembled dog wastes, and extra-extra-oily French toast sticks. Yum yum.
"Hi Alf."
"Hi..." He tilted his head. "Karen, was it?"
She nodded.
"I'm not the best with names, but I'm good with faces."
"What sucks today?"
"Huh?"
"What would you recommend I *not* eat?" she asked. After discussing menu items past and present with Holly the night before, she'd decided that this would be a more productive question than asking what was 'good'.
Alf got it. "Ah. The sausage. Definitely. They're actually old shoe heels."
She giggled. "Okay, a little bit of eggs and french toast then."
"Comin' right up."
Karen selected a milk carton and a little round plastic cup of OJ, plus another of those fruit-pie-things. They were surprisingly good.
Holly had filled her tray already and was heading for an empty seat. "Karen? You coming?" she asked.
Karen was just standing there with her tray, looking intently around the room. "In a minute," she said distractedly. "I'm looking for something."
Holly shrugged and picked a seat near her bat friend Veronica.
That grey cat boy from yesterday... She was sure now she remembered him. In the hallway. He was talking with some mouse kid...
There.
Still with the mouse kid, he was just sitting down. His tray was piled high with bacon.
Karen headed over. "Hi."
Brad looked up. "Um, hi..."
The young raccoon extended her paw. "I'm Karen."
"That's nice. I'm Brad." He shook her paw only for a split-second. He had no idea who she was and was worried she might be one of the talkative, grabby, divorced-from-reality nutballs Tyler had warned him about. Like that kangaroo girl. "The table's kinda full, if you wanted to sit here..."
"Um, that's okay. Actually, I just wanted to ask you kind of a strange question," she said nervously, fidgeting quite a bit. She could hardly believe she was doing this.
Brad exchanged a glance with Tyler. Tyler gave him an 'I know nothing about this kid' look. The feline turned back to the odd little raccoon. "Sure. Why not?"
"Ummm..." She gulped, took a breath, then just came out with it. "Is your grandma dead?"
Brad was up on his feet in a flash, his face mere inches from Karen's. He gave her tray a shove, sending eggs all over her dress. "Don't talk about my grandma!!"
Karen had not anticipated this, although in hindsight she knew she should have. Shaking from shock, she tried to apologize. "Please, I'm so sorry! It's none of my business, really! I'm sorry!!"
Brad saw the fear in her eyes and his anger simply flipped off like a switch. His rational mind kicked himself in the ass with a steel-toed boot: THINK OF HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU WILL BE IN IF YOU GET IN ANOTHER FIGHT, DUMBASS.
He switched gears instantly. "No! *I'm* sorry! Really, that was wrong!" Frantically, he tried to straighten out her breakfast tray. Other kids were looking at them now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just really close to my grandma and it was a weird question and yes she's dead and I overreacted. Forgive me, please!"
He sounded so desperate it was almost pitiful. Karen smiled nervously, relieved he'd changed so abruptly. "It's okay, really. It was wrong of me to ask. I just... I don't wanna sound crazy but-"
"We're in a mental hospital," Tyler helpfully pointed out. "You can't *help* but sound crazy."
Both Brad and Karen chuckled slightly. They both started picking egg off Karen's dress, looking sheepish as they did. "What sounds crazy?" Brad asked.
"I kinda... I think I had a dream about her."
Brad furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" How could someone he'd never met before have a dream about a furson she didn't even know about?
Karen bit her lip. "Well, see, I have these nightmares about dead people all the time. And sometimes I wonder if... If the dead people in my dreams might be real."
Brad blinked. He grinned lopsidedly. "Are you serious?"
She blushed. "Uh-huh."
He realized how embarrassed she was and tried to wipe the grin off his face. "Oh. Okay. So how'd you know it was *my* Grandma?"
"She mentioned you. By name."
Brad wasn't exactly sure what to think about that. This girl was probably delusional and insane and all sorts of stuff, and yet she sounded so normal. And she was saying all this weird stuff with a straight face. "Alright, so what'd she look like?" he said challengingly
"Real skinny, with lots of wrinkles. Grey fur like yours, but without the stripes. And she had a walker."
Brad swallowed a hard gulp of air and felt a few goosebumps pop up. 'No way.' "Okay, that was a lucky guess. Anyone could've guessed that."
Karen hesitated. Now came the part where she'd either make a fool of herself or confirm that she had indeed had a Real Life Vision.
Part of her heart even hoped she'd be wrong. Part of her wanted him to laugh and say she was off by a mile. That way, it would mean she was nice and safe and crazy, and she could just keep on taking their drugs and hopefully the bad dreams would go away forever, because that's all they would be. Just bad dreams.
But what if he said she was right? That would mean... that she was psychic. _Psychic_. Those kind of people were just kooks and frauds and con artists, right? None of that was real. Right?
"Well?" Brad said, getting impatient. "Did you dream anything else or was that it?"
"No," said Karen. She hesitated a second more, then blurted it out quickly. "She said she was looking for you. That she wanted to apologize for not seeing you in that play. You were a knight, and the title had something to do with..."
"Dragons," they both said. In perfect unison.
Brad's eyes were wide as saucers. His mouth went slack. He looked like someone had cast a spell to turn him into stone.
"I'm right, aren't I?" Karen asked, feeling almost as afraid as Brad. "I really saw her."
"'Dragons and Dungeons'," Brad said. "That's what it was called. It was a spoof on King Arthur movies and stuff. And I was the Silver Knight." His voice carried no emotion whatsoever.
The two young furs stared at each other, knowing that this was real. This was really happening. It was not a put-on or a prank. The fear they were both seeing in each other's eyes was real. Brad was almost glad for it. If she *hadn't* been freaking out as much as he was, he'd think she was a witch or something.
"Brad? You set this up, right? This is a practical joke you're playing on me?" a mouse voice asked, seeming almost from miles away.
"Tyler, shut up and eat your eggs."
Tyler shut up and ate his eggs.
Brad looked at Karen again. Neither of them knew what to say.
Finally Karen turned away, about to run off to Holly's table.
"Wait! Can we talk some more at lunch?" Brad called out.
Karen stopped, turned back and nodded before she could stop herself. Her tail was frizzing up like a bottle brush and it bobbed along behind her as she ran off for the other side of the cafeteria.
Brad stood dumbly for a few seconds, wondering how the world had gone so completely crazy since last night.
"Are you gonna eat this?" Tyler asked, pointing to Brad's blueberry muffin.
"_Yes_," the feline hissed, returning to his seat. "I'm hungry as hell. Remember, I lost dinner last night."
"*We* lost dinner," Tyler reminded him. "I think a bunch of other kids did too, judging from all the running around and flushing I heard."
Brad nodded absent-mindedly and dug into his bacon.
Tyler didn't say much else. He didn't really believe that little thing with his friend and the spooky raccoon had been real. But if it was, it wouldn't be too hard to accept. 'Not with what *I* can do...' he thought to himself as he sipped from his juice box.
~~~
Holly had been watching from afar and had no idea what was going on. When her new friend finally came over to sit by her, she looked like she'd just gone the scenic route through a haunted house. "What just happened?" the squirrel asked concernedly.
Karen stared at her eggs. "If she was real... then *he* was real too..." she muttered to herself.
"What!?"
*****
-BEATRIX-
Dr. Beatrix woke up with her head on her desk. Again. It seemed like she spent the night in her office at least once a week every week. Reliable as Old Faithful.
She smiled bemusedly. She didn't really mind, of course. Her house barely counted as her home anymore since she'd gotten this job. The job was made for her, and she for it. She loved her work. The money meant less than nothing to her. It was getting to work with children that did it. Getting to play with their minds. Getting them to obey her. That's what she loved.
There was a system in place, and she felt proud to be a part of it. She felt proud of The Project's goals. She felt proud of this year's selections. She knew she'd have all of them sorted out just fine in time. Either sorted out, or sent down to Ward Zero. Either way was equally acceptable to her.
So long as the problem got solved.
Dr. Beatrix Beverley got up and went to take a pee. There was a long, bright day ahead of her.
*****
-BRAD-
Lunchtime couldn't come soon enough.
Tyler had intended to stay in their room and keep his new buddy company, but the fidgety little rodent was simply too hyper to be cooped up in a small space for long. Brad understood this without even needing to ask. He could see it in the way Tyler kept glancing at the door and shifting position and just generally looking like someone who had to go to the bathroom real bad.
Brad finally told him it was fine by him if Tyler went off and had fun. It wasn't his fault he'd gotten himself in trouble anyway.
The young mouse gratefully accepted the reprieve and ran off to go watch cartoons. Though he'd made a point to unearth his comic collection and leave them in easy reach of his cat pal.
Brad had in fact brought some books with him in his suitcase, but his attention span was the size of a grain of rice at the moment and he knew there was no way in hell he'd ever be able to keep up with a novel. Comics, though, were perfect. Short, action-packed and full of stuff to keep his eyes occupied so his brain could try to straighten out what had happened at breakfast.
He hadn't even tasted his bacon. And normally he adored the stuff. Just give Brad some bacon and he is a happy kitty. Not this morning though. Nosirree bob. His brain had been a thousand miles away from his tongue and digestive system.
It was useless and stupid to act like it hadn't happened. It was a real, honest-to-goddam psychic phenomenon, and he knew it. There was no way a total stranger in a place he'd never been to before yesterday could possibly know how his grandma had died. He'd never told another living soul about that. Only his family knew. And he didn't think it likely his mom would give some raccoon girl secret family info just to shake him up.
So it was real. The girl had psychic dreams about dead people. What more had she seen? What more *could* she see?
For Brad, part of the reason this was so easy to accept was because he'd had his own brush with the impossible many, many years ago. And he had been seeing off-and-on reminders of it ever since.
There were things in the world, he knew, that could not be explained in science class. And it didn't mean you were crazy to admit that.
~~~
Halfway through Captain Eyeballs' amazing adventures against the machinations of The Terrible Timestoppers, there was a knock on the door. Brad looked up and saw Monsoon peeking in with a look on his face like he was about to tell him he'd run over his pet puppy. Brad didn't have a pet puppy, but that was beside the point.
"Bad news?" he guessed.
"Dr. Beatrix wants to see you again," the mountain said with a wince.
Brad groaned.
~~~
The elevator ride up was torturous. Brad wanted to just get in and get it over with, but the goddam elevator was moving at negative-ninety-five miles an hour.
Monsoon looked positively guilt-ridden. He looked like a man about to execute his own son.
Brad lightly whacked the mountain's pant leg. "Dude, don't worry about me. It's not your fault. It's your job; I get it."
Monsoon nodded, giving the kid a quiet smile. "Thanks for saying so. But I like you, and I know she's probably going to do something awful to you in there."
"That's why I wanna just band-aid this," Brad replied.
Monsoon arched an eyebrow.
"Rip it off quick and get it over with."
The mountain nodded in comprehension.
*ding* went the elevator.
~~~
"Ah, Mr. Maplewood. Come in, please."
She sounded so sweet and chipper, Brad almost convinced himself that maybe this was actually good news. Like maybe his mom was driving up right this second to yank him out of here.
But when he saw Dr. Beatrix's smile, he knew he would not be leaving this office with one on his own face.
"Sit down, Bradley."
He didn't even bother telling her to cut it out. He knew she was doing it on purpose, and she knew that he knew. It was a game. And the only way he could win was to give her as few opportunities to hurt him as possible.
That was how this worked, of course. He understood that now. He'd known enough people like Dr. Beatrix (mostly past teachers) to know what their game was. It was called 'Dig Your Own Grave'. It worked like this: Brad would do something stupid, and then they would punish him for it, and then they would take every opportunity possible to trick him into doing more stupid things again and again so they could have fun heaping even more punishments on top of him until his back snapped from the strain. Adults have sick fucking minds, he realized.
Brad sat down and made his face as neutral as he could.
She grinned. She saw that he recognized the game now. Good. Always more fun when the prey had a sporting chance. "How's your punishment going, Bradley?"
"Fine. Boring, but fine." 'Don't be cocky,' he told himself. 'Don't let her think you're in agony, but don't let her think it's a cakewalk either.' He remembered in third grade how one of his teachers had given him a five-page essay to do over the weekend as punishment for pushing Simon Krentz's head in the toilet (and of course, the little shit deserved it). When asked what he thought of that, Brad had said it sounded like a piece of cake. The teacher grinned and said, 'Well then, I suppose it'll be just as easy to do a *ten*-page report, now won't it?' Brad had later given his own tail a very hard yank for that.
"You remember exactly what I told you your punishment consisted of?" Dr. Beatrix asked, sounding as unconcerned as if they were discussing a grocery list.
Brad nodded. "Yeah."
"You remember," she said, "that I told you you were not to leave your room at any time except for meals?"
Comprehension dawned, and with it came anger. "It was just to take a shower!" Brad shouted. "Come on, that's not fair. The rules say we have to take a shower every morning. How can I follow one rule and not the other? I can't be in two places at once!"
The rabbit grinned with satisfaction.
'Oh crap,' Brad thought, 'that wasn't it at all. Somehow, it was a trap. And I fell right into it.'
"No, Bradley, this isn't about the shower. You're right; I should have made that exception clear. You won't be punished for that."
He did not allow himself to relax.
"You will, however, have to be punished for what you did last night."
Brad looked at her as if she were speaking a different language. "Last night? What do you mean, last night? I went to my room, went to bed, got up, puked, then went to bed again. And by the way; please fire whoever cooked the bratwurst yesterday."
She giggled as if they were old, dear pals. "Oh, don't worry about *that*! I assure you, appropriate actions have been taken. Someone has already been disciplined."
Oddly enough, he believed her.
"No, I think you're forgetting what happened after that. Late last night. This morning, actually. At about three forty-five a.m...."
Comprehension dawned again. Brad's facial muscles went slack with horror. "No..."
Dr. Beatrix nodded and smiled. Her eyes glistened pink like the inside of a cobra's mouth. "Yes, Bradley. You Left Your Room."
He felt paralyzed with the sheer impossibility of it. She *couldn't* punish him for that! She *couldn't*! It wasn't fair! Oh God, it wasn't fair!!! "But- But-"
"No buts, Bradley. Rules are made for a reason."
"But I thought Tyler was DEAD!!" he shouted, completely losing his poker face. "He looked like he wasn't breathing! What was I supposed to do, go back to bed!?"
She shook her head. "Come now, Bradley. You can do better than that. You knew full well what your punishment was. The nurse's station was only a few feet away. You could have easily called out for help if you thought the situation was serious enough."
"_Serious_ enough!?" he brayed. "I thought he was *dead*!!! Dee-ee-ed, dead!! I panicked! Wouldn't anybody?"
"No, not everyone would. In fact, I'd like to think most people would be able to keep their heads on better in a real emergency."
Brad felt like reality was melting. This was surreal. She was talking crazy talk now. And the worst part was, she knew damn well she was too.
"You could, and should, have known better. I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to give you another punishment on top of your existing one."
Oh, it was *so* hard to keep from screaming out, 'YOU'RE NOT SORRY ABOUT ANYTHING, YOU COLDHEARTED CUNT!!!'. But Brad resisted. He had to. His cunning finally returned and he realized the single most important thing he could do now was to clam up and not say another freakin' word. No Matter What.
"I've thought quite a while about what your punishment should be..."
In the space of a heartbeat, he nearly shouted, 'Please don't keep me in my room another day!', but managed to restrain himself. That would be suicide. That would be like *begging* her to keep him in his room another day.
"I think a good choice would be to revoke your phone privileges for the rest of the week. Just till Sunday. That seems fair, doesn't it?"
Brad was about to gape in surprise. That didn't sound so bad!
But then he realized what that would truly mean.
His mom had given him a sock full of quarters before he left, with instructions to call her as often as he could (and that if he hit anyone over the head with it, she'd ship him to Siberia). No phone meant no Mom. He'd be cut off from his mom until Sunday, and he knew without a doubt that Dr. Bitch would not bother calling her to explain the situation. Mom would sit at home and wait for a call and the phone would not ring for days and days, and she would think it was because her son had forgotten her. Her heart would break.
Brad very nearly cried. He looked at Dr. Beatrix with sheer, horrified incomprehension. 'How can you do this?' he thought at her. 'How can your heart be so black that you'd hurt my mom just to hurt me? What the hell *are* you?'
Dr. Beatrix smiled. "You're free to go now, Bradley. And if you come out of your room again any time between now and seven a.m. tomorrow morning, it will either be for lunch, dinner, or because you have been set on fire. Do we have an understanding?"
Brad screwed his face up into the ghastliest smile a sane mind could behold. His expression radiated enough hate to wipe out an entire continent. "Yes, Dr. Beatrix. I understand. I promise I'll be a good boy from now on."
Her false smile fell for the tiniest of instants upon seeing his. He saw it, despite her nearly instantaneous cover-up, and he knew, for just a second, that he had scared her. Good. At least now the score wasn't just two to nothing.
Dr. Beatrix wanted to smash him for that. For startling her. For getting the best of her for even one split-second. She wanted to throw him to the ground and strap him down and put enough electricity through his brain to fry his eyes like two eggs in their sockets.
Instead she said, "Have a nice day, Bradley."
*****
-KAREN-
When she saw Brad again at lunchtime (grilled cheese sandwiches; one of her faves), the tomcat looked awful. Like his whole family had died.
She sat down silently opposite from him. "What's wrong?"
Tyler answered for him. "Dr. Beatrix is a foul, spiteful bee-yotch, that's what happened," he said with bottomless bitterness.
Karen nodded. "I thought so the first time I met her," she agreed.
Brad raised his head. He hadn't touched his sloppy joe and doubted he would. His appetite was shot. "_Never_ give her any reason to punish you. NEVER," he warned like a prophet of doom.
The little 'coon whimpered with sympathy. "Whatever she did to you, I'm sorry."
Holly had been held up choosing between a muffin or a granola bar for a side dish. She finally took both and strolled over to where Karen was sitting. She stiffened like an angry cat the instant she saw Tyler.
He saw her too, and a bright smile crossed his face. "Elvira! Good to see you again!"
"Shut up, you insufferable little worm," she spat, sitting down by Karen but as far away from the mouse as she could.
"You two already know each other?" Karen queried.
Holly glared daggers at her grinning nemesis. "Yes. He's an asswipe. Literally. I should drag him into the bathroom next time I hafta take a dump and rub his head between my cheeks until I'm clean."
Tyler sighed romantically. "You say the sweetest things when you're angry, my darling." He made kissy noises with his lips pooched way out.
Holly groaned in disgust.
"By the way, does that thing ever get caught in your shirt when you undress?" Tyler asked blithely, pointing out her nose ring. "You'd better be careful around construction equipment. If a crane hooked that sucker, it'd swing you way up in the air."
Karen willed herself with all her might not to laugh. Even Brad, who understandably was not in a laughing mood, very nearly smiled.
Holly stabbed her grilled cheese sandwich murderously with her spork. "Fine, freak. You can insult how I look; I'm used to that. But I swear, you ever make one teensy little fat joke and I will force your head up your urethra."
Tyler looked positively delighted. That was a *good* one! Heck, the only reason he made fun of Holly in the first place was that she gave back twice what she got. Thus, she entertained him greatly.
"What's a urethra?" Karen asked innocently.
"That little hole on the end of a guy's dick," Brad said matter-of-factly.
Karen recoiled. "Eeeeeew!" She looked at Holly. "You're gross!"
Holly shrugged: 'Yeah, well...'
Brad forced himself to eat a french fry. It was limp, greasy and soggy. Just how he liked 'em. There was that, at least. He tried another. "So, um, are we gonna talk about what happened at breakfast?" he asked the raccoon girl. "And what's your name again?"
"Karen. And, okay. Yeah. You believe me, right? I promise, I'm not trying to trick you."
Brad nodded. He was still down about what Dr. Beatrix had done to his mom, but that didn't stop him from also being interested in this psychic stuff. "I believe you."
Holly found all this fascinating. "So, she really was right about your grandma?" she asked Brad.
"Dead on," he confirmed.
"No pun intended," Tyler added.
Holly made a gesture at him so obscene, no one else at the table even knew what it meant.
Tyler giggled. "No, seriously, I believe you too. Both of you. I've always loved watchin' shows about weird phenomenons. I'm totally into this stuff."
Karen felt a lot better than she had this morning. To have not one, but three people believing that she wasn't insane felt fantastic.
She took a sip of milk. "The thing that kinda scares me though, is thinking that if your grandma was real... then probably all the other dead people in my dreams are real too. I mean, I've been having nightmares since I was a baby. That means I've had literally *thousands* of dead people in my head!"
Tyler cringed. Holly grimaced. Talk about a spooky thought...
Karen took a bite of her sandwich. She promised herself she would bring this next part up. But that would take courage, and she'd used so darn much of that in such a short time, she was almost worried she was about to run out.
"I didn't just see your grandma last night," she finally said.
"Who else then?" Brad asked.
The young raccoon steeled herself. "There was this guy, leaning against a lamppost. He was a wolf with all-black fur. He was a lot older than us, like seventeen or so. He had on a leather jacket. And he smoked." She paused, shuddering, at the memory.
"And...?" Tyler supplied.
Karen looked into all their faces. She'd sort of been hoping maybe one of them might know who he was. "He said his name was Always-Jimmy-Never-James. All one word like that. And he said some really scary stuff to me. About this place. He said they brought us here for a reason. They picked us, out of all the crazy kids in the whole country, for a specific reason."
"What reason is that?" Tyler asked.
She shook her head. "He didn't say. He... He came up to me. And he grabbed me. And he was screaming in my face. I thought he was going to..." (rape don't say rape) "...hurt me. I screamed and struggled and when I woke up I was still screaming."
Holly looked worried. Karen hadn't told her any of this. The stuff about Brad's grandma, yes, but not this. This guy sounded like a psychopath.
Brad was just trying to assimilate this information. But as he did, a new connection was forged. "Waitaminnit... You woke up screaming? When was this?"
Karen had no idea.
"Sometime after three thirty, I think," Holly said. "I saw the clock in the hall."
Brad's face drew up into a grimace of barely controlled rage. "Then it was YOU who woke me up!!" he realized. '...And made me notice Tyler and leave the room and get punished and not be able to call my mom...' He savagely clenched the sides of his head in his paws. "Jesus CHRIST!!! If it wasn't completely not your fault I'd fucking KILL you!!" he ground out through clenched teeth.
"What the hell are you talking about!?" Holly snapped, seeing how afraid he was making Karen.
Brad forced himself to calm down. He squinched his eyes shut and clenched and unclenched his paws. 'Oh sonofabitching goddamn!! If she'd only kept her mouth shut!!' He wanted to just howl at Karen at the top of his lungs until he felt better. But he knew that would be totally unfair of him. It was not her fault. Not even his own fault. It was Dr. Beatrix's fault. Her fault. All her fault. He had to remember that.
Tyler patted Brad on the shoulder comfortingly. He'd realized exactly why Brad was fuming now. The tomcat had laid out the whole sorry mess for him just before lunch started. "It's a long story," he told the others. "But basically, you accidentally got him in huge trouble," he said to Karen. "And I guess I did too."
"Oh," Karen said, still a little confused as to the how of that. "Well, I'm definitely sorry then," she told both of them.
"Yeah, okay," Brad grumbled. "Me too, I guess."
"By the way," Tyler realized, "I have no idea who you are."
"Karen Willard," she said.
"Tyler Lorenzo." He reached across the table and shook her paw. "And I already know Bozo the Goth here."
It was so unexpected, everybody laughed. Even Holly.
Tyler grinned like he had a mouthful of sunbeams. "You laughed!!" he shouted, pointing at Holly. "You totally laughed! Admit it; you like it when I insult you as much as I like it when you insult me!"
She gave him a weird look. "You *like* it when I insult you?"
"Sure," he said, as if that should have been obvious. "You're good at it. I admire your craft."
He'd said it so sincerely, she really, honestly believed him. An oddly proud little smirk crept onto her face. "Thank you. ...You mongoloid little foot-fungus."
"See!? That's exactly what I mean!" he burst out joyfully. "I could've _never_ come up with that!"
For the moment, Brad and Karen had both forgotten their respective troubles. And as lunch dragged on, the mood grew progressively lighter. All of them had a good time chatting and getting to know each other better. Karen felt happy to be among friends. Brad eventually did eat his sloppy joe. And Holly and Tyler were both relieved that neither of them actually hated the other. Now that they knew it was just a game, they could *really* get creative with it!
When the clock struck 12:45 and Thurston Caercase called out to everyone to clean off their trays and line up, the young furs at table six had gone from being more than just two sets of two friends. They were now a unit of four.
~~~
After lunch, Karen felt flushed with good, happy feelings. So much so that she got an idea that, under normal circumstances, would've seemed like utter madness.
Standing in line, she asked Holly if she was planning anything for this afternoon. The squirrel said no, so Karen asked if she'd mind helping her out with something important. Holly nodded solemnly.
Once they were back in their room, Karen went over to her bed and sat down.
"What do you need my help for?" Holly asked.
Karen took a deep, cleansing breath. "I'm gonna do something that'll take a lot of courage, and I want to know you'll be right there beside me if anything bad happens."
The squirrel looked nervous. "What do you mean?"
"I'm gonna do something I don't think I've ever done before in my whole life. Voluntarily, I mean."
"What's that?"
Karen's voice was iron. "I'm going to take a nap."
*****
-JIMMY-
He had been banging his head against the streetlamp for almost ten hours now.
Not only was time soupy and bendable in the Inbetween, but most souls soon enough realized they were indestructible in this particular realm.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."
He deserved it, he knew it. He couldn't believe he'd been so damned stupid. He'd probably scared the living shit outta that poor girl and now she'd never come back and they were all probably doomed now, just like the rest, and-
The light across the street came on.
Always-Jimmy-Never-James looked up in wonderment, and there she was again.
It was a miracle. "Thank you, Jesus. Or whoever you are."
Karen noticed she wasn't in her pajamas again, but it was still night here. In fact, it looked as if a single second hadn't passed since she last left this place. The air was still chilly. The orange light was still on in the top window of the asylum.
And yet it didn't *feel* like night. Partly it came from knowing that it was really 1 p.m. back in the real world. And, weird as it was, this place seemed to know that too. This felt like false night. A coat of paint over daylight.
He was still there too. She didn't think the old lady would be; she had passed on her message. Hopefully, that meant that she was at peace now.
But whatever *he* wanted to tell her was still left unsaid.
And, to her astonishment, she could tell he'd been banging his head against the lamppost all this time. There was an inch-deep crater in the metal at forehead level. And the pole was tilted almost forty-five degrees.
"Hi," he said. "I'm a complete asshole, aren't I?"
"Yes," Karen said, surprising herself more than him.
He smirked. "I can't believe you came back. You either got real sleepy, or you're braver than I gave you credit for."
His voice was soft and apologetic now, a world of difference from last night.
"Do you want me to stay over here?" he asked.
Karen stood her ground bravely. "It's a little annoying, having to shout across the street like this"
He smiled, nodded, and walked forward.
Karen backed up a little, still as wary and cautious and ready to scream herself out of here at a second's notice if she had to. But everything about the wolf now was a good sign. She'd suspected this. Suspected that this was the reason behind a lot of her nightmares: the ghosts had something to say, and they were so anxious to say it after years of searching for anyone who could listen that they got a little overexcited. They didn't realize how much they scared her. It was like a starving man grasping for food. You couldn't expect someone in that position to act rationally.
Stepping into the doorway of some vague, dark-windowed shop, Karen watched the wolf approach. Always-Jimmy-Never-James stepped onto the sidewalk. He saw the mailbox and thought it was a safe enough distance away to speak from without scaring her. He hopped up on top of it with acrobatic grace and got comfortable.
They regarded one another.
"You know I'm dead, don't you?" he asked, a small note of wonder in his tone.
She nodded. "And I know I'm not dreaming anymore."
He grinned. "Good girl," he purred proudly. He laughed to himself, just taking in the awesomeness of the moment. He had waited for this longer than he could possibly remember. Literally. He had no idea how long it had been since the night of the failed rebellion. He only knew he'd sooner spend a million more years in this nightmareworld if it meant getting the chance to keep it from happening again. Heaven (or Hell, which seemed more likely) could wait.
"Do you have something to tell me?" Karen asked.
He nodded. "Oh, indeed I do, little girl."
"My name is Karen," she said assertively.
He looked genuinely surprised. "No shit! Your name's really Karen?"
"Uh-huh."
He slapped his knee and nearly fell off the back of the mailbox. "Talk about a good omen!" he whooped.
"What's that mean?"
He smiled bright and awestruck at her. "Karen was my girlfriend's name. Still is, I hope. I mean, I hope she's still alive. She survived that night. I didn't. Do you get that? Do you understand the amazing fucking cosmic significance of that? Do you!?"
She took a step back. "No. And you're scaring me again."
He slapped himself, hard, across the face. "Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry. I don't mean to. I don't want to scare you, Karen. I'm just so goddamned excited. Karen helped me plan everything. Karen helped me get everyone else out alive before they could fuck all our brains into oatmeal. That's exactly what I'm hoping you can do, Karen Numero Dos."
She blinked. What the heck did that mean? "You were trying to tell me something about the hospital last night. Something about why they picked us."
He shook his index finger at her. "No. Not a hospital. You must never think of it like that." He reached into his jacket. "Mind if I smoke?"
"Go ahead, you're already dead."
The black wolf laughed hard. "Oh that was a *good* one! You're smart, Karen. Smart as hell. Younger than my Karen, but at least as smart. And it rhymed, too!" He pulled out one of his eternally seven cigarettes and was soon sucking deeply on it.
"What about the hospital? If it's not a hospital, then what is it?"
"What is it?" He took a puff. "It's a concentration camp for superheroes."
Karen's head shot forward. "What?!?"
"Not actually superheroes, and they're not actually killing you guys. At least, not most of you. But they *are* killing what's inside of you. They are aborting your potential, Karen." He made a little gesture with his finger like blood swirling down a drain.
He was scaring her again. Not with his actions, but his ideas.
"Karen, I want you to listen to me and remember what I say and believe in it too. You, and every other kid in the whole fuckin' nuthouse; you were all chosen with the greatest care. Like fresh fruit off the vine. Why'd they send *you* an invitation, and not some other kid in Zimbabwe who has nightmares all the time? Why Brad? Why Holly? Plenty of kids are antisocial or've tried to off themselves. And Tyler? Shit! There's probably more hyperactive kids in this country than there are pet cats. Why? Tell me why they picked him. Why?"
"I don't know," Karen said. "He's not a superhero."
He smiled patronizingly. "How do you know?"
She frowned.
"You've known him, what? Two days tops? Less than that? What about Holly?"
"What about her?"
"What hasn't she told you?"
"I don't know what she hasn't told me! How could I know if she hasn't told me yet!?" Karen screeched. "I'm getting sick of the way you talk! If you want me to help, just _tell_ me!"
The black wolf pulled back a little, impressed by the fury and the passion in her voice. Suddenly, he felt very, very hopeful. About everything.
"Fine, Karen. You make a good point. You wanna know why? I'll tell you why. You are talking right now to a guy that got shot in the fuckin' head at point blank range. Twice. I've been dead for probably a fuckin' decade by now. And yet that fact doesn't stop you from having a nice little conversation with me. Now, don't you think that makes you kind of special?"
"Yes," she said, hesitantly.
He spoke slowly and clearly, hunching over like a vulture to look straight in her eye. "And what would you think, if I told you, that almost Every Single Kid in that hospital is just as special as you are...?"
Karen thought she felt her heart stop.
~~~
Nearly two hours later, Karen woke up.
To Holly's utter amazement, she was not screaming. And as Karen would realize later, it was the first time she'd woken up peacefully in possibly her entire life.
Holly looked at the blissful, almost angelic expression on her friend's face. "What happened?"
The young raccoon smiled. "I know everything," she said.
*****
-TYLER-
After a few minutes of killing off brain cells with network television, Tyler noticed the clock on the wall and got up and headed down the hallway towards the 'L' bend.
He wished he could've been talking with Brad all this time, but his feline friend had said after lunch that he wanted to be left alone for a while. Just to think. He wasn't mad or anything. Tyler understood. All this talk of dead grandmas and freaky guys with weird names was plenty hair-raising.
The door opened just as he got there. A young skunk boy popped his head out; he looked happy and relieved. Doc Jones had a knack for making people feel that way. "Hi," Tyler said.
"Oh. Um, hi." The little skunk was a bit startled. He was just about Tyler's age, but was quite a bit smaller nonetheless. His tail was almost exactly the same size as the rest of his body. He had a big teardrop-shaped head and striking blue-green eyes.
"I'm Tyler." He put out a paw. "Just get done talkin' with the shrink?"
"Victor," said the skunk, accepting the shake. "And yeah. He's really nice."
"I know," Tyler said, chuckling from experience. "My turn now. Seeya 'round."
"Okay, 'bye," Victor said, and padded off down the hall towards the TV room.
"Tyler, right on time!" Dr. Jones exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "I didn't even have to call you."
Tyler shut the door behind him, helped himself to some of the little round tropical-colored hard candies in the bowl on the table, and plopped himself down in the swivel chair. "Well, I figured you almost always see me fifteen minutes or so after lunch, and it's usually every other day, soooo... I guessed."
"And a good guess it was."
Tyler hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "New kid? I thought I saw him in group yesterday. Before the 'incident' happened." (Tyler made quote marks in the air with his fingers as he said this.)
Dr. Jones nodded solemnly. "Yes, he and your roommate and a girl named Karen were all admitted yesterday morning."
"I've met Karen," the mouse mentioned, leaving out the whole bit about her communicating with the dead.
Dr. Jones shuffled some papers. "Well, we're not here to discuss the other children, now are we? We're here to discuss Tyler Phillipe Lorenzo."
The mouseboy cringed. "Gaah!! Didja hafta go and mention my middle name? Now I gotta go dunk my head in the toilet a buncha times to forget about it!"
The plump otter jiggled with laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot. Honestly! But seriously though, have you been making any progress with what I asked you to do in our last session?"
Tyler nodded. His assignment had been to try to describe how his manic moods felt physically. Despite it being hard to concentrate on anything when he got in one of them, he had done his best to observe them as if they were happening to somebody else. "It's like... Sometimes it's like I'm all full of fireworks. They're all going off inside me and... and I just have to keep moving around. Because it's like all the sparks are biting me everywhere inside, y'know? And in my brain, it's like I'm reading a billion books at once. My mind just won't shut up. I've told you how sometimes I can't get to sleep for hours. I'll just lie in my bed at night and my head's all full of song lyrics and comic books and weird thoughts and stories and other dumb stuff, and I can't get it to stop!"
The doctor nodded. "I've heard a lot of other children describe similar sensations to me, Tyler. Though you used some excellent metaphors."
"Thanks," said the young mouse.
"Tyler, after talking with you for a long time now, I'm beginning to suspect that you may not have any kind of chemical imbalance, or medical condition, or psychiatric disorder at all. At least, not in the way we usually think of one. It may be nothing more than a severely overactive imagination. Not that I'm saying you're making this up of course. What I *am* saying is... Now how should I put this?" He 'hmmm'ed. "Alright, try to picture in your mind a man who designs space shuttles for a living."
Mildly curious at such an odd non sequitur, Tyler sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He could see a little man right there, clear as day. "Gotcha."
"Think about what that would be like. Building one of the most complicated machines in the history of furkind, made to perform in the most dangerous conditions of any vehicle ever designed."
Tyler's little man was scribbling furiously on a huge chalkboard, drawing up all sorts of design sketches and mathematical formulae.
"This man would have to keep track of millions and millions of tiny details. If he didn't, it could cause the deaths of everyone on board that shuttle."
Tyler nodded. On the chalkboard, the little sketches came together to form a rocket, which then promptly blew up. The little man jumped up and down and tore his hair out. Tyler tried hard not to giggle.
"You can certainly imagine the type of pressure a furson like that would be under."
"Sure," Tyler said. "I bet guys like that, their heads must blow up all the time."
Dr. Jones smirked. "Alright now Tyler, I want you to take this man, whose mind must calculate a million things a second, who is under incredible pressure to be brilliant every second of every day..."
Tyler imagined for all he was worth...
"...and suddenly he finds himself working behind the counter at McDonald's."
Tyler's brain made an abrupt u-turn. The little man suddenly found himself in a dippy uniform, slinging burgers, dealing with annoying fat ladies and going absolutely insane.
The young mouse began to understand.
"Now Tyler," Dr. Jones said softly, "imagine a young boy whose mind is working just as hard as that shuttle designer. We do not know why it is, we only know that it does, and that trying to stop it from doing so may not be in the best interests of the child at all. Maybe, Tyler, your brain is simply supposed to be like this."
The concept astounded him. "*Supposed* to?"
"Maybe you weren't born to design rocketships, but it's entirely within the realm of possibility that you were indeed born to do _something_. Some children are called prodigies. They display talent in something far beyond their years. I assume you've heard of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?"
"Yeah! Mozart rocks!" A few years ago, Tyler had been forced by his mother to sit down and listen to some classical music to stop him from gagging every time she did. She put on the headphones, and Mozart's music had slipped into Tyler's large ears. It was love at first sight (or sound, actually). And when Tyler found out that this guy was practically just a kid like him when he composed the stuff, it made it even better.
The enthusiastic response pleased Dr. Jones. He liked seeing children take an interest in music outside their generation. "He's just a famous example. Some children are born gymnasts. Some are born painters, or sculptors. Some are born writers. Nobody knows why they can do these things with hardly any training at all. It is, whether you believe in a deity or not, what is called 'a god-given talent'."
Tyler sat there, slightly awestruck. "You think *I* might have something like that?"
The doctor shrugged. "Maybe. It's one possibility. And if it's true, it would certainly explain a lot. Think of how frustrated your mind must be if it is supposed to be fulfilling its true potential, and instead it has nothing to do but watch cartoons and read comic books all day long."
"Wowww..." This suddenly seemed very, very likely indeed. Tyler began furiously indexing everything he'd ever had a talent for, wondering which one was The One.
The doctor held his paws up. "Now now, don't count your chickens before they've hatched. Remember; it's just an idea I had about something that *might* fit. But please, explore it. If you have a gift to give this world, I want you to find it, and find happiness in doing it."
Tyler nodded with a great big grin. "I will, doc. I'll do my best."
"Until then, I have another assignment for you."
"What's that?"
"I was talking to another boy yesterday who has many of the same symptoms as you. Racing thoughts, fidgeting, hyperactivity... He told me he's found great success in improving his concentration with one simple little trick."
"Well, what is it!?" Tyler squeaked, leaning forward over the desk. "Don't keep me in suspense!"
Dr. Jones couldn't help a chuckle at Tyler's keen grasp of melodrama. "Tyler, for the next week or so, whenever you really need to concentrate on something, I want you to do something completely different at the exact same time."
"Huh?"
Dr. Jones leaned in closer, arms folded on his desk. "Through trial and error, this boy found out that sometimes his mind has *so* much extra energy, that in order to concentrate, he needs to have a release valve. To keep one half of his mind busy with something trivial so that the other half can concentrate on whatever it needs to at the moment. For example, when he needed to sit still and focus on what his teacher was saying in class, he'd often play with some small toy under the desk. Keeping his hands busy helped take pressure off his other senses. And he said that his math homework became startlingly easier when he played loud music on his headphones."
Tyler was groovin' on the idea. "I think I get it. Like, if my brain is full of water, and I want to get rid of it, but the pipe I'm using makes it just spray all over the place... Then instead, I should get two pipes at two different angles, and it'll flow a lot better then!"
"Excellent!" Dr. Jones shouted. "What a fascinating simile! Tyler, I don't mean to influence you, but I feel certain your gift must lie in words. You may be the world's next great storyteller."
The little mouse beamed, practically vibrating from excitement!
Dr. Jones tapped his pencil on the desk, noticing the boy was spacing out a bit. "Now, erm, before you go, I did want to ask you about your... other problem."
"You mean the chronic explosive diarrhea?" Tyler replied blithely.
Dr. Jones rolled his eyes. "I think you would have mentioned that before if you hadn't just made it up. No, you know what I'm talking about. The fainting spells. I heard you had another one last night and nearly scared your roommate to death."
Tyler looked a little ashamed. "Yeah, I found out about that the hard way. I told him I was sorry, but I really should've told him before we went to bed. It's just, so much other stuff happened, I kinda forgot."
"That's alright, Tyler. We all make mistakes. The point is, was this one voluntary or involuntary?"
"Involuntary, I think," Tyler lied. "Probably because I was asleep already. Though I told you, almost all the time I can control it just fine. See?"
With that, he simply ceased to function. His head fell forward and he nearly tipped out of his chair. Had Dr. Jones not already seen this a dozen times, he would've thought for sure his patient had just been shot in the back of the head.
A second later though, Tyler was his normal, springy self again. "Toldja."
Dr. Jones sighed. "Fine, I believe you. But you understand, this is not normal behavior. Even for boys with overactive brains. I'm just worried it might be a symptom of something else, something possibly dangerous to you."
Tyler nodded understandingly. "And I keep telling you, the worst thing that's ever happened to me because of it is that I occasionally hit my head on stuff. Otherwise, it's just like taking a really super-concentrated nap."
This wasn't anywhere near the truth. Tyler knew that, and hated having to lie to such a nice guy as Dr. Jones. But it really was out of the question to tell the truth. Not even an option, actually.
The doctor shrugged. "I guess that's everything I wanted to discuss with you then, Tyler. I'll see you again soon."
The young mouse propelled himself from the chair. "Okay. Thanks! I really liked talking with you."
The doctor smiled warmly. "No, thank *you*. I like knowing I'm helping bright kids like you. Now remember to work on what we discussed!"
"You bet your tail I will!" Tyler said as he scooted out the door. He ran down the hall, his brain abuzz.
'I could be the next Mozart!' he thought to himself. 'Awesome!!'
*****
-THURSTON-
Most of the span between lunch and dinner was free time. Aside from the occasional visits to Dr. Jones or Dr. Beatrix, all the kids could pretty much do whatever they felt like. Within reason, of course. No projectile vomiting contests or knife fights.
Brad had read almost twenty-five comics by the time Tyler came rushing in to talk about his incredible discussion with the good doctor. Karen mostly laid on her back in bed and planned. Holly begged her over and over again to tell her what she'd seen in the dream, but Karen said that it would have to wait until suppertime when she could share it with the boys. Keith, who had spent almost the entire day in the quiet room (intermittently napping, screaming, or swearing like a sailor), was now in his room reading a novel about robots. Rubiella was practicing her flash cards with one of the volunteer nurses, and was doing quite well at it. Victor was playing Super Mario Brothers in the TV room with his new friend Benjamin. And Sherri was sitting quietly off in her usual corner, reading.
At four p.m., the children of Ward F (minus Brad, Keith, Rubiella and two others who were nearly catatonic) were led all the way downstairs to the hospital's gymnasium. They shared a free activity period every week with Ward E, so the two groups got to commingle and make small friendships. Ward E was composed of kids in the facility's highest age bracket: ages thirteen through seventeen. Fortunately, the two groups usually got along just fine. The gym was huge enough that territorial disputes hardly ever popped up.
Honestly, the gym was about as big as a freakin' opera house. Just yelling made a fine activity since, depending on where one stood, one could pick up some fantastic echoes. There were two basketball courts, a volleyball net, lots of gymnastic equipment, a much bigger ping pong table than in the game room, plus a room off to the side filled to bursting with various sports gear.
While Keith read, Ruby napped and Brad played gin rummy with Monsoon, Karen and Holly attempted to find something to occupy themselves with. Tyler was already engaged in a game of hoops with some of the bigger kids, burning off lots of surplus energy in the process. Most of Holly's other acquaintances were gathered by the miniature stage, gossiping about something or other. Karen looked nervously around the giant room. She wasn't much for sports. Though not out of shape, she just naturally preferred quiet activities. Holly didn't mind since she was also not fond of strenuous physical play (for completely different reasons).
In the equipment room, behind a hockey net, Karen made an interesting discovery. A piano. It had been donated at the opening of the facility, and since the staff didn't know what else to do with it, it had ended up stashed in the gym. For most of the hour, the girls sat together at the keys and pounded about aimlessly. Eventually, they sort of figured out how to play the theme from "Jaws".
Once the hour was up, Clifford and another orderly blew a whistle and the kids all lined up in two neat rows; Ward E on one side, Ward F on the other. The two groups said their goodbyes, traded compliments on good games and such, and parted ways until the next activity period. As they all climbed back up the stairs to their respective wards, many of the kids grumbled about how, in another five minutes, they'd just be stomping back down again for dinner. Holly especially disliked the inefficiency of it. Although she had to admit, she did kinda need the exercise.
Once upstairs on F, a few kids darted to their rooms and back for various reasons. Then everyone got lined up again for chow. Brad walked out of his room with aching relief. After this, it was just a few hours more before he could finally walk free again (or at least as free as one could get behind locked doors.) He met up with Tyler near the back of the line and the boys shared a high-five.
He also noticed Keith coming out of his own room. The two boys locked eyes for a split-second. Just long enough to say, 'Not now'. Neither of them were eager to get in any worse trouble.
Karen was humming with anticipation. In just a few minutes more she would reveal the secrets of her dream. She would tell Holly and the boys what Always-Jimmy-Never-James had told her. She would tell them her plans for dealing with this new revelation. And she was sure they'd have plenty of ideas of their own to trade.
The young raccoon noticed with no real concern that Mr. Caercase was waddling up to the front of the line. Clifford handed the almighty clipboard to him. The bear tipped him a weird little almost-salute and the rat went shuffling off, probably to smoke.
"Okay buckaroos, settle down," Thurston called out, his rich voice resonating thickly down the hallway. "You know the drill. Quiet and orderly. I'm sure you're all hungry, so let's go get some grub."
Various mutters down the line.
The airlock door opened. Karen flinched in surprise as the big bear turned to look right in her direction. He seemed about a dozen times her size. "Would you mind comin' up to the front of the line with me, little sister?" he said, his voice low and oily.
Karen felt a deep, sticky sense of unease. The bear's smile was bright as sunshine, but it concealed something darker underneath. It was a liar's smile. She cast a glance at Holly, then bravely stepped forward.
Holly looked just as worried as Karen. There was a very personal reason why she did not like Mr. Caercase...
As the grizzly bear led the youngsters quietly down to the cafeteria, he kept a peripheral eye on the little raccoon.
"Am I in trouble?" Karen ventured.
Thurston guffawed. "Trouble? Heck no, girly-girl. I was just wondering how you like the place so far. What do you think? How's it grab you?"
"It's okay, I guess," she mumbled. God, the way he looked at her made her skin crawl...
Thurston smiled and smiled. If he noticed her discomfort, he did not care. "Makin' lots of new friends?" His soft words echoed tinnily off the walls of the deep, spiraling stairwell.
"Yeah," Karen admitted. "My roommate's nice. And I met some other nice people too."
"Well that's just swell." He stepped to the side, then put a paw on her shoulder. "Just swell..."
Karen's jaw trembled. The fat paw felt like a giant, heavy tarantula. It started patting her shoulder in rhythm with their steps. Karen did not dare ask him to remove it. Though right then she thought she might have seriously considered amputating her arm just to not feel that covetous weight there anymore.
"This really is a fantastic place, Karen," Thurston said, calling her suddenly and disconcertingly by her name. "Brand new and state of the art. Got computers and everything. I like working here, I surely do."
"T-that's nice, Mr. Caercase," Karen mumbled.
"You ever need a favor, little sister, you can just come to me. Y'hear that? You can just come to me." The paw squeezed her soft flesh tenderly.
Karen looked over the side of the railing. There were so many more stairs to go...
The paw squeezed and squeezed, like kneading bread dough. The bear had a faraway look in his eyes. As if he were daydreaming about something wonderful. Something *delicious*.
"You just come to me, Karen. Come and tell Uncle Thurston. That's it. He'll do you right."
Karen wondered if she'd survive if she simply leaped off the stairs, down into the dark spiral, and took her chances with gravity instead...
*****
-KAREN-
When the stairs finally ran out and Mr. Caercase held the door to the cafeteria open, Karen had a deeply haunted look in her eyes. She looked like she'd seen, not a ghost, but something a thousand times worse. Something much more plausible too.
Thurston smiled at her. "Bon appetit, kiddo," he said.
Karen nodded absently and skittered away from him as fast as she possibly could without being obvious about it.
Alf the cook glanced up from his mashed potatoes and saw both of them. His brows drew down in suspicion. He felt deeply uneasy. That grin on the bear's face was somehow unearthly. Like a mannequin's. Or like someone trying to pretend to be something they weren't. As the kids began lining up, the fox darted quickly into the kitchen and grabbed a pencil.
Karen hung back a bit, and as soon as she saw Holly, ran to her. She held the squirrel's paws in hers and looked in her eyes for comfort. Holly sighed, sounding both angry and troubled. "Later," she whispered. "I'll tell you all about him."
Karen nodded.
The girls got their trays.
"Hi, Alf," Holly said dully. "Fried chicken, please."
The fox nodded. "Comin' right up."
As he handed Holly her food, he made eye contact with Karen. She was startled by how serious he looked. "What'll you have today?" he asked quietly.
It took her a few seconds to find a voice. Normally this guy seemed breezy and cheerful. Now he looked like he had a hell of a lot on his mind. Matters of grave importance. The sincerity in his eyes struck her, especially given how much they seemed the utter opposite of Thurston's.
"I'll have the meatloaf," she murmured absent-mindedly.
He gave her a slow nod, like two spies passing secret information.
Karen held up her tray and Alf slid the yellow styrofoam foodboat onto it as usual. But this time he gave her a very crafty little smile. "I hope you'll enjoy today's secret ingredient," he said. He all but winked at the end of it.
What the heck did that mean? Karen gave him a look like he was out of his mind.
...That is, until her fingers brushed against the folded paper he'd slipped discreetly onto her tray. Then her eyes widened in realization.
Karen quickly grabbed at some side foods, not really caring what, and hurried towards the soda fountain. Acting as if she were getting some ice, she very carefully unfolded the note and took a peek.
Karen
As you're leaving today, I'll come out carrying
some leftovers. Bump into me. This is very
important. I need to warn you about something.
Alf
The writing was in thick, rushed pencil. Smudged and sloppy. Written in great haste. Karen stared at the little scrap of paper, blinking in unreality. What in the world...?
Putting this new, intriguing development aside for now, she got some cola and approached the table where Holly, Brad and Tyler were already waiting for her.
~~~
"...and then she wouldn't tell me anything about it. She was out for almost three hours!" Holly was just filling in the backstory when Karen approached with her tray. The sun was starting to set outside and it made the small garden outside the glass doors look especially pretty.
"Ah! Mystic Karen, the all-seeing, doth approacheth!" Tyler said grandly, making wiggly motions in the air with his fingers.
"Hi," said Brad.
"Hi," said Karen to everyone else, tossing a small 'cut it out' smile at Tyler. She settled in and took a nibble of her corn muffin. Not bad. "Holly told you all about my nap?" she asked.
The boys nodded.
She took a deep breath. No sense waiting any longer. Just come out and say it, she coaxed herself. "I met with Always-Jimmy-Never-James again."
"The psycho!?" Holly yipped.
"He's not really a psycho," Karen defended. "Even if he did used to be a patient here. Well, not really *here*, but at another hospital just like this one. He says there's four of them."
"Four hospitals just like this?" Tyler said incredulously. "You'd think one kiddie looney bin would be enough."
Karen ate her meatloaf somberly. She'd forgotten Holly's warning against it, and soon was paying the price. It tasted _terrible_. But she didn't feel like eating anyway and pushed her tray aside. "This place isn't what any of us thinks it is. They don't care about making us well."
"What do you mean?" Brad asked.
She looked up and locked eyes with all of them in turn. "In my dreams, I talk to dead people. You all believe me, right?"
Three reassuring agreements.
Karen dropped the bombshell. "I'll bet you all have something weird or supernatural you can do too."
Holly, Brad and Tyler all looked suddenly uncomfortable.
"You do, don't you?" Karen said, her conviction absolute. "You don't have to tell me now; we'll get to that later. What Jimmy told me was that pretty much everyone here has some kind of special talent, or power, or something like that. Almost all of us."
"...Jesus," Tyler husked. "There's, what, a few hundred kids in the building? Maybe a thousand!?"
"We were all hand-picked," Karen said. "The government did it. They looked around the whole country, everywhere. Jimmy thinks they even have people working for them that can 'see' kids like us. And then they send our parents letters and we all get sent here. Or to one of the three other places."
This was a little hard to believe. More than just a little, actually. This was sci-fi stuff. Comic book stuff. Things like this didn't happen in real life, right?
"So... what do they want with us?" Brad asked, poking his meatloaf.
Tyler grinned. "Are they gonna train us? Like, to be covert operatives?"
Karen looked at him like she was about to tell him his parents were dead. "No, Tyler. No." She took a deep breath and sipped her drink. "They wanna round us up so they can eliminate us."
"WHAT!?" Holly yelped.
"Keep it down!" Brad hissed.
"Sorry," the squirrel mumbled.
The other three kids were staring breathlessly at Karen. She didn't like having their attention focused so sharply on her, but it wasn't like she could really blame them.
"Always-Jimmy-Never-James told me everything. A while ago, maybe even a whole decade, he lived in a place just like this. He had a bunch of friends. He even had a girlfriend." She neglected to mention that they shared a name.
"They'd been living in the asylum for months and gradually Jimmy started figuring it out. He noticed weird stuff about all his friends. His girlfriend, he said, could levitate a little bit. She'd sit on her bed and could float a few inches up in the air. She'd even sleep like that sometimes, he said."
Tyler sucked his milk through a straw with eyes the size of semi truck headlights.
"At first he and his friends thought it was cool. They'd all meet in the bathrooms and show off their powers to each other, just for fun. But then he started to put together why so many kids who could do stuff like that would all end up in one place at the same time.
"...And why sometimes people would go missing at night."
Holly gulped.
"Jimmy tried to get everybody together to fight back. He didn't give me a lot of details because I think he's still really shook up over it, but basically one night they rebelled. And they failed.
"He said the hospital staff was ready. They hit him and his friends with clubs and sprayed them with mace and did all sorts of awful stuff to them. He said he and his friends managed to bust open a door and a lot of kids escaped. But a lot of them didn't. He said..."
The horror of it made her stop to take a new breath.
"He said Dr. Beatrix shot him in the head and killed him."
"You're fuckin' kidding me," Brad blurted.
"No, I'm not!!" Karen shouted back forcefully, surprising them all. They'd never seen so much anger in her eyes. "You didn't hear him tell it! You didn't get all the details! He told me *everything*, and I believe him! He... He showed me the bullet holes in his skull!"
"He _what_?" Holly sputtered.
Karen shuddered at the memory. "He turned around and lifted his hair out of the way, then pointed out these two big, gross holes in the back of his head. It looked awful."
Brad gaped. "...Fuck."
"I've seen worse," Karen said flatly.
Tyler was starting to shake, quivering like Jell-o. "So, what, they're just gonna kill us all off, one by one? Wouldn't our parents have something to say about that!?"
Karen shook her head. "No, that's not it at all. Jimmy told me that too. He said there's no way the government people would be that stupid. They just want us all to go away. He said they're scared of us. Just like people used to be scared of communists, or witches. Or gay people. Or whoever else is different. 'They don't think we should be allowed to exist'," she said, quoting from the black wolf directly. "So, the whole point of a place like this is to get us to think we're all crazy."
"Aren't we though?" Tyler quipped.
He did have a point. "Well, yeah, I guess," Karen admitted. "But that's not what I meant. They want us to think our abilities are all in our heads. They want us to think: 'Well, stuff like that doesn't happen in real life, so it can't really be happening to me'. If they can just convince us we're not really able to do the stuff we can do, and if they just give us enough pills, they think the problem'll be solved." Her tone clearly suggested that this was not the case though.
She dropped her voice even lower, making them all lean in closer. "But sometimes, when someone resists... Jimmy said they have this room where they do electroshock. He said after he died, he watched them fry some of his friends' brains. The ones that got caught. The doctors turned them all into coma zombies. You've seen people like that on TV, right?"
Tyler shivered. "My grandpa was in a coma before he died." He remembered seeing him, lying in bed all day and night, staring up at the ceiling with eyes as dead and shiny as quarters.
Karen nodded. "Just like that. They stash 'em in the basement in a place called Ward Zero. Then they tell the parents that there was a problem with the drugs, or that there was an accident, or something like that, because they know no one'll ever think to check how many other kids it's happened to. And if some reporter *did* try to do that, they'd just... I dunno, do something horrible to him to keep him from talking."
"And if you get *way* too rambunctious, they just shoot you in the head," Tyler said, trying to keep himself from freaking out. "Christ, it's like Professor X's academy in reverse!!"
Brad, getting the reference, chuckled humorlessly.
Karen sat back, feeling exhausted, and pushed her food around her plate a bit. She put some in her mouth, but all the taste was gone.
Holly raised the logical question. "So what do we do now?"
Karen closed her eyes and told herself to be brave. "I have a plan."
"What is it?" Holly and Brad asked at the same time.
She opened her eyes again. "Jimmy told me that he and his friends were too late. They took too long to realize things and fight back. But this hospital's only a month old, and Brad and I just got here. We've got plenty of time."
"You mean... We should try to escape?" Tyler asked.
Karen nodded. "And take everyone else with us."
Holly poked holes in the styrofoam tray with her spork. "How?"
Brad gnawed his french fries thoughtfully. "We use our powers," he answered.
Karen looked at him and smiled. "Right."
"What, just us?" Tyler said, with great unease. "We'll get creamed!"
Again, Karen shook her head. "No. We won't. And we won't do anything yet. We've gotta lie low for now. I have a plan, like I told you. Jimmy helped me work everything out. He said he's been waiting years for someone like me who could see him and hear him and listen. He had a lot of really good ideas.
"First, I want everyone here to find one other kid and ask them if they can do anything special. Someone you're friends with, or just someone you think'll probably have some kinda power. Jimmy also told me that not everyone in here has 'em. The government people just make their best guesses and try to catch everyone who seems weird to them. 'They cast a wide net', he said."
Karen felt something steely inside of her. Without even realizing it, she was dusting off leadership skills she had never known she possessed. "Just ask them real casual. Like, if there's anything cool they can do, like a party trick. Then we all meet somewhere and talk about what we're gonna do next."
"What if they have no idea what we're talking about?" Holly asked.
Karen shrugged. "Then... I dunno. Just start talking about something else. Or you can do that eye thing you do."
"Huh?" said Tyler.
Holly looked at him, then rolled one of her eyes independently of the other. It was creepy as hell.
"Eeeugh!" Tyler squeaked. "That's freakin' bizarre!"
Holly smiled proudly. "I can do the other eye too. Never met anyone else who can do it either."
"I can bend my thumb all the way back," Brad interjected, demonstrating said talent with a muffled crackling noise. Everyone cringed.
"But you get what I mean?" Karen asked, wanting to make sure everyone was on the same page.
They all nodded. For their own secret reasons, they all couldn't help but believe her.
"Where are we gonna meet?" Brad asked.
"That, I don't know," Karen said bashfully. "Any of you have any ideas?"
"The art room," Holly said immediately. "No one ever goes in there except when they force us to."
"Can you just go in and out of there whenever you want?" Brad asked.
The plump squirlette nodded. "Sure. I go in there to read sometimes. There's a mirror in the hallway that lets them keep an eye on you at the nurse's station. As long as you keep the door open, they don't mind."
Karen looked hopeful. "Good idea, Holly."
The squirrel nodded in thanks. Then she nibbled her index finger thoughtfully, taking a second to fiddle with her nose ring. "But if a whole bunch of us just suddenly decide to go in there at once, they'll get suspicious."
Tyler nodded. "They'll probably think we're gonna have an orgy."
"You're disgusting," Holly said reflexively. "What's something we could all do that looks legitimate?
The skinny mouse suddenly lit up. "Oh, I have got the best damn idea ever!"
"What?" Karen asked.
Tyler grinned. "Ever play Uno?"
The little raccoon shook her head.
"I have," Brad and Holly both said.
"It's simple as dirt," Tyler told Karen. "Anyone can play it. Heck, dead people can probably play it. The cards have instructions printed right on 'em. And it's fun as hell. Especially when you play by *my* rules," he said foxily.
Karen looked to the cat and squirrel. "A card game. Huh. That sound okay to you guys?"
They nodded. "I haven't played in a while. Sounds fun," Brad said.
Holly smirked thoughtfully. "We can sit there playing cards all we want. They can watch us the whole time and they'll never know what we're talking about. I hate to admit it, but the cheese-sucking bucket of slime has a good idea."
Tyler batted his eyelashes at her. "Why thank you, Gothzilla."
She scowled like Mephistopheles. "Is that a fat joke?"
The mouse backed off quickly. "Nope! Just a pun! Don't kill me!"
She gave him the evil eye nonetheless.
Karen was feeling surprisingly light. Her breathing felt freer. She actually had some hope now. She thought that maybe they could make this work. "Okay, so, after lunch tomorrow, bring a friend and we'll all meet in the art room."
"I'll bring the cards; don't worry," Tyler pledged.
"Do you guys already have someone in mind?" Karen asked.
They all nodded, having already begun to consider potential candidates.
Karen slurped her soda. "I think the first thing we should do when we get there is to just introduce ourselves to everybody and tell everyone what we can do. I think we'll all be kinda scared at first, so we should all do it together. It's like, 'it's not so bad if everybody else's done it', right?"
Tyler nodded. "I'm not scared. Hell, I've been waiting to finally tell someone about it for a long time. It's such a cool secret! I've been biting my lips forever trying to keep it in!"
"Well, I meant like, scared whoever you told would think you're crazy," said Karen.
"Ah," the mouse comprehended. "Yeah, okay."
Brad looked a little sheepish. "I know what that feels like. I've kinda always thought I *was* crazy. I mean, I remember the first time it really happened, but I've been kind of convincing myself it was a dream since then." He felt a little chill at realizing he was probably the kind of patient Dr. Beatrix loved; the kind that had already starting the brainwashing process themselves.
Holly was nodding too. "I'm actually glad my parents never have any idea what the hell I'm doing up in my room sometimes," she said simply.
Karen gave them all reassuring looks. "Just remember, you guys, I was really, really scared when I told Brad I saw his grandma. That was the first time I'd ever tried to see if one of my dreams was real. But now I _know_ they're real, and I'm not scared anymore."
That wasn't entirely true. She was still plenty scared of lots of things. But she was at least proud of herself for trying to finally understand the things that did scare her. And, she suddenly realized, she was proud of herself just for being able to admit to the reality of her situation. Even if she saw dead people all night long, at least she knew she was sane. That there was nothing wrong with her brain. Besides being tuned to a different station than most peoples', that is.
And maybe that meant... that she'd always been a good girl. That Mommy and Daddy were wrong to treat her they way that they did...
It was a revolutionary thought.
With her head all full of plans for tomorrow and thoughts of her own unique psychic condition, Karen talked with her new friends all through supper. And when Thurston finally did call out for everyone to line up to go back upstairs, her thoughts were so far elsewhere that it was either pure, blind luck or a subconscious suggestion that made her walk straight into Alf the cook as he was carrying a big metal tub, and get subsequently splattered head to toe in mashed potatoes.
*****
-ALF-
"Holy mother of mackerel!!" the fox shouted.
Karen just stood there, frozen in shock, feeling the warm spuds drip all over her clothes, hair and fur.
Several of the lunchladies gasped in horror.
A second later the air was full of stinging laughter as every kid in Ward F (with the singular exception of Holly) pointed at her and busted a gut. Even Brad and Tyler couldn't stifle it.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Alf sputtered, looking more in shock than Karen was. "I'll be right back!" He ran off to get some paper towels.
Karen looked with hollow, humiliated eyes at all the jeering children. She knew they would be laughing at her for months over this.
And then, from out of nowhere, a magic fairy seemed to spring up from somewhere deep in the little raccoon's heart. Before she could stop herself, she shouted out, bold and clear, "Hey, I was hungry for seconds!! So what!?"
She slammed her muzzle shut in shock. Had she just... Actually... Made a *joke*?!?
The laughter from the other kids doubled, but much of it changed into appreciative giggles at such a perfect save. Brad, grinning, gave her a thumbs-up.
Karen grinned back weakly. She could not believe she had done that. She didn't think she'd ever made a joke like that before in her life. And one so perfectly timed!
All around the world, kids in similarly embarrassing situations simply stand there and sputter. Only hours or days later do they think of the perfect thing they could have said to turn the laughter around and make it theirs. The French call it 'le espirit de l'escalier'. Maybe only once in a lifetime will that one perfect thing come to a furson at exactly the right moment.
Karen basked in the awe of having experienced her once-in-a-lifetime moment.
Then, like an encore, she scooped up a dollop of the stuff and smashed it into her own face. She flung out her arms like a diva. "I'm the abominable potato monster!" she sang out.
Howls of mirth exploded. She was knocking them dead!
As Karen stood there, covered in spuds, beginning to giggle just like the rest of them, Alf ran over to Thurston, brandishing several rolls of towels. "Look, um, I screwed up. My fault entirely. Why don't you take the rest of the kids upstairs and I'll get her cleaned up, okay?"
The fat bear considered this. "It wouldn't be much trouble for us to wait..."
"Come on, she's embarrassed enough already! I'll have her upstairs again in a few minutes, I promise. No trouble at all."
Thurston shrugged. "I suppose. But I'm going to have to mention this to Dr. Beatrix."
Alf flinched. "Fine, fine. I deserve it. Just go."
Thurston's gaze lingered a second longer, then he called out to the kids. "Quit laughin'!!!" He roared. "Anyone who makes another peep from now until we're back on the ward gets twenty minutes in the quiet room!"
Immediate silence.
Tyler poked Brad in the shoulder and mouthed the word 'peep'. They both nearly got themselves in trouble giggling.
As Thurston herded the young'uns out the door, Alf was already kneeling at Karen's side. The fox nervously started wiping wads of potato from her dress. "Oh geez, oh geez... Look at you! Karen, I am so sorry! The potatoes were supposed to go on the _floor_, I swear!"
She looked utterly befuddled for a second, then remembered his note. "Huh? Oh! Um, yeah. I guess it's my fault then."
"No, Karen, it was just an accident. I'm sorry. It was a dumb idea," he said. He was so sorry his ruse had backfired, his voice was actually wavering quite badly.
Karen held out her arms and turned around so he could de-taterify her all over. "What did you want to tell me about anyway?"
At that, Alf's whole mood changed in a heartbeat. He swirled her around and looked her straight in the eye. "Stay away from Thurston Caercase," he told her, as firmly as he could.
She was startled by the sheer force in his gaze. "O-okay. I mean, I already think he's creepy-"
The fox cut her off. He was still cleaning her up mechanically with the paper towels, but his attention was far away from his hands. He kept his voice a low, hard whisper. "He's not just a creep. He's a pedophile. I'm sure of it."
Karen recoiled.
"I notice a lot. I've been working here since this place opened. And right away I started seeing him being 'extra nice' to this little wolf girl. About your age, actually. She even looked a little like you."
Karen felt a sense of dread. "What happened to her?"
"I don't know," Alf said with great worry in his eyes. "All the time, I'd see him hold the door for her, talk to her, touch her hair... And the way he looked at her... Like she was a thick, juicy steak."
The little raccoon shuddered. She felt a phantom paw on her shoulder.
"Then one day she was just gone. I haven't seen her since." Alf tossed a wadded-up towel over his shoulder. "But I did notice the look on that man's face the day it happened. Karen, I swear, he had the most satisfied smile I've ever seen in my life. Like he'd just gotten something he'd been waiting for forever."
Karen said nothing.
"Then a week later, you show up. And he did something to you as you were walking downstairs today, didn't he?"
Slowly, she nodded. "He wanted me to stand at the front of the line with him. He put his hand on my shoulder."
Alf winced as if tasting something terrible. "Watch out for him, Karen. Never, ever let him take you anyplace alone. Throw a tantrum, fall on the ground, get sent to the quiet room. Whatever you have to do, just don't let him hurt you."
"I will," she promised with a whisper. "But haven't you told anyone about what you saw? About the wolf girl?"
Alf nodded. "I went straight to the top. I told Dr. Beatrix. She said the girl's parents had picked her up, that her treatment was over with. But she was smiling at me the whole time. Like she was saying, 'Call me a liar and you won't have to come into work tomorrow. Or ever again for that matter'."
Karen felt a sickness in her throat. The hope she'd felt earlier had just been dealt a blow, but it was nowhere near gone. She only forced herself to accept that none of this was a game. Everything that was happening to her was real, real, real. This place was a nightmare, and if she ever wanted to go home and see her family again she would have to fight her way out. If she wanted to keep her new friends from being hurt, she would have to fight. Fight, or wind up just like Jimmy's friends down in Ward Zero with their brains all blown out like used batteries.
Karen talked with Alf for a while longer. They both worked diligently at getting her all cleaned up again. Thankfully the mashed potatoes were just that instant crud and were relatively easy to scrape away. Still, Karen felt all oily, and would be requesting a shower as soon as she was back upstairs.
She and the nice cook talked mostly about Dr. Beatrix. In hushed tones they discussed her cruelty, and how they were both afraid of her. Karen found herself relating some of Holly's horror stories, and how poor Brad was stuck in his room with no way to talk to his mom for the rest of the week. Alf found that completely appalling.
When she was most of the way presentable again, Karen helped Alf round up all the used towels and throw them away. Alf led Karen out the door and this time they took the elevator up. Karen greatly appreciated that. The thought of the stairwell still gave her the willies.
Alf pushed the comm button on the panel by the Ward F door. "I'm bringing Karen up."
The speaker mumbled something unintelligible, then the door popped open.
"Sorry again about the spud-shower," he told her with a shrug.
Karen giggled. "I already told you it was my fault too."
"Yeah, well..."
The young raccoon smiled. "Thanks for helping me get cleaned up, Alf," she told him, her gaze warm with gratitude. "And thanks even more for the warning."
Before he could speak, she hugged him.
The blue-haired fox stiffened for a moment, startled. Then he gingerly gave the girl a few soft pats on the back. "You're welcome," he said in a shaky whisper.
"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," Karen told him as she stepped away, into the airlock. The door began to close between them.
Alf waved weakly. "Stay safe," he called out to her.
'Stay safe, Karen,' he thought. 'Stay safe from him...'
He saw her young form pass through the inner door.
'From him, and everyone else like me...'
The fox turned and walked away with much on his mind.
*****
-KAREN-
Wanting nothing more than to take a chilly shower and then go lie down for a while, Karen plodded down the hallway to her room.
Unfortunately, her room and the showers were past the TV room.
The very second she came into view, kids started crowding out into the hall to look at her.
Karen froze in dread. 'Oh crap...'
Before anyone else could say a thing, Tyler leapt forth like one of the three musketeers, bellowing, "ALL HAIL THE POTATO QUEEN!!"
The kids freakin' lost it. Most of them just doubled over laughing, but a few did manage to cry out, "Hail, hail, potato queen!"
Tyler shot her a 'I just _had_ to do that. No hard feelings?' grin.
Unable to resist chuckling herself, Karen rolled her eyes at him, did a curtsey, and went as quickly off to her room as politely possible.
*****
-JIMMY-
When the light came on across the street, the black wolf glanced up to see a young raccoon standing there. One who looked rather tired.
"What's up, Karen?" he called out.
She looked up and smiled a little, glad to know he was still there and willing to help her. She strolled across the street to him, looking introspective. "Well, for starters, I'm never eating mashed potatoes again," she tossed off.
His cigarette dangled dumbly from his lip. "...Should I even ask?"
"_No_."
Always-Jimmy-Never-James nodded. "So then, how's everything going?" He pointed to a short set of stairs in the doorway of some blurry little shop behind them and they sat down together.
The concrete was cold under Karen's pajamas. It made her shiver. "There's good news and bad news."
"Bad news first," Jimmy said, sounding quite sure. He took a drag. "Makes the good news, whatever it is, seem even better."
"Okay then..." Karen fidgeted a bit and stared down at her paws. "I think one of the security guys on the ward is a pedophile."
"Thurston, you mean?" he guessed immediately.
Karen nodded. "Alf said he might have done something awful to some other girl before I got here."
The black wolf snarled. "Being dead means you can pretty much poke your nose into whatever the hell you feel like. Doors don't matter anymore. That fat fucker piqued my curiosity one day when I caught him staring at some other little girl's ass in the TV room. I followed him home that night. Sat right in the backseat of his car and he never even noticed." He coughed a little. "Rather than freak you out even worse, let's just say that you _never_ want to know what I saw him looking at on his computer that night." His voice firmly conveyed that he was not joking.
Karen shuddered. "Did you ever see a little wolf girl, about my age? Before I showed up?"
He thought back. "Can't say that I remember... I mean, a lot of kids have passed through that place in the short time since it's been open. I can't keep an eye on all of 'em. But I'll check Ward Zero tonight, if that's what I think you're asking."
She nodded somberly.
"What's the good news then?" he asked, noticing how down she seemed.
She looked up, noticing his 'cheer up' smile. "I'm not really depressed," she told him. "Just tired. After my shower, I pretty much laid on my bed and thought about stuff till lights out. The good news is that, first off, I'm pretty sure I can trust Alf. He seems like a nice guy."
Jimmy's ears flicked. "Is he the fox with the hairnet?"
"Uh huh. I don't know if he'd be willing to help us, or if he would even believe us if we told him, but at least I'm pretty sure I'm safe from Mr. Caercase if he's nearby. That, and at supper I told Holly, Brad and Tyler about the meeting you suggested. They all believe me about what's really going on. At least I think so. They thought the meeting was a good idea, at least."
He grinned. That was _definitely_ good news. "You asked them all to bring someone else?"
She nodded. "Yup. It's all gonna happen tomorrow after lunch." She folded her arms and rested her small muzzle upon them. "I hope everything goes off okay."
Jimmy gave her shoulder two soft, encouraging pats. "Hey there... I'm sure it will."
She looked up and smiled appreciatively. It amazed her for a second how she'd gone from being terrified of this guy to trusting him enough that his touch comforted her. Seeing him as a real furson helped, rather than some spooky ghost or weird nightmare.
"It's just..." Karen sighed. "Most of what I've been thinking about is how I don't know if I can really do this or not. I'm just a little kid. A *scared* kid. How am I supposed to save anyone?"
He nodded understandingly. Looking up at the night sky, he took a long, deep breath in and then blew two smoke rings. "Karen, do you know what adrenaline does to a furson?"
That seemed a bit off-topic. "Yeah. It helps you run away fast if you're in trouble."
"Well, yeah. But not _just_ that. It basically supercharges your whole body, and for a few seconds, makes you able to do basically anything to either survive or save somebody else. I heard about some old lady who picked up her freakin' car when it rolled over on top of a kitten. Seriously! The point is; doubt is for losers. You have no idea what kind of things you can do until you're forced into a situation where you have to do them or die.
"That night, my friends and I helped a hell of a lot of people escape. I mean, the staff ended up catching a bunch of us again anyway, but that's not important. What IS important is that we did it in the first place. Hell, I saw Karen - my girlfriend Karen, I mean - punch this one nurse in the face so hard she ended up breaking the bitch's nose. And she'd never hit anybody in her entire *life* before!"
She understood what he was trying to tell her, but wasn't sure it helped her any. "Yeah. But..."
"Fuck buts," he said abruptly. "The more you think about doing something important, the more likely you are to mess it up. Just plan things out the best you can and live life moment to moment."
She couldn't help giggling.
"What!?"
"You said 'fuck butts'."
He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Okay, fine, so that didn't come out right."
She grinned a little. "I get what you're trying to say though," she told him. She stared for a bit at his cigarette, and a wild impulse popped up in her. "Mind if I try a puff?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You ever smoked before?"
She shook her head.
He shrugged. "Your choice." He handed her the half-smoked butt. "My advice for a first-timer would be to just take a really fast, deep breath in and get as much smoke as you possibly can into your lungs."
Assuming he knew what he was talking about, Karen inhaled fiercely.
Jimmy was thwapping her on the back a second later as she coughed and hacked and left spit droplets all over the sidewalk. Exactly as he knew she would. The last thing he wanted was for her to pick up his filthy habit.
"That was HORRIBLE!!!" she rasped at him. She threw the cigarette across the street. "Why would you ever want to do something like that!?"
Always-Jimmy-Never-James reached for a new one from his never-empty pack. He lit it and stuck it in his mouth. "Take it from me, Karen; all people who smoke are fuckin' stupid."
"But why..."
"I think I already covered it as best I can," he said shortly.
Not understanding at all, Karen just shrugged and tried to get the nasty taste out of her mouth.
They sat there for a while more, not saying anything. Not having anything at the moment to say. The only sounds were the crickets and Jimmy's intermittent puffing. Karen looked off into the darkness and could see the huge black shape of the asylum against the purple night sky. That one orange light looked like a single monster eye staring back at her.
"What were your friends like?" Karen asked suddenly.
Jimmy flinched. "Ahh... could we not talk about that?"
She sat up straighter. "No, really. Please. I want to know what they were like. The ones who didn't make it."
The black wolf grumbled to himself. His memories of them were all sharp and clear, and it felt somehow wrong to take them out of his heart and into the cold dark world. But, he decided, Karen did have a right to know. He was supposed to be guiding her on the path he and his own band of rebels had never really seen the end of. Looking down at the sidewalk, away from her eyes, he relented.
"I told you a little bit about Karen. She was a husky. With this golden brown fur that just drove me *crazy*. She could levitate a little; I think I mentioned that too. Every single night, I wonder where she is. I wonder if they somehow caught up to her, or if she's off hiding somewhere. Maybe she even fled to Canada. She said she had an uncle or a grandpa who lived up there...
"My best friend in that place, we all just called him Blade. He was another wolf like me, but his fur was brown. Taller than me too. We called him that because he could just... Cut stuff. With his fingers. It's hard to describe. He'd just run his finger along something and, if he concentrated really hard, it'd just *open*. Like he had an invisible scalpel in his hand. He eventually figured out how to do that with his whole body. He could touch pretty much anything, anywhere, and the molecules would just fall apart or something." He held out a corner of his jacket with a perfectly smooth oval slit in the side. "He did this once by accident. And man, you should've fuckin' seen what he did to that one guard's face the night we busted out... It was beautiful."
Karen cringed a little.
"There was a gecko named Dave. But we called him X-ray, or just Ray, since he could sort of 'sense' what was going on just about anywhere in the hospital. He said it must've been what bats see when they use their sonar. 'A picture made of textures', he said once. I thought that sounded cool.
"You know how some people are double jointed? We had a guy who was like that over his entire body. Seriously! Name was Frankie. We could fold him up like a chaise lounge. He could squeeze into just about anything. He even got himself stuffed in the microwave one time."
The little raccoon chuckled, trying to picture that. She noticed Jimmy seemed to only be talking about his friends' abilities, hardly saying anything personal about them. That was okay though. Maybe it was the only way he could talk about them at all without breaking down.
Jimmy continued, staring off into space up at the stars. "Gilda could move stuff around by looking at it. She wasn't too good with heavy stuff, but she could make little things float around in the air like a tiny li'l solar system. She said she wanted to use her talent to become the world's greatest pickpocket." He chuckled. "She used to distract the night nurse at bedtime and make her pills shoot down the hall so she wouldn't have to take 'em.
"Randy was weird. He could make things look different for a little bit. It's hard to tell you in words. You had to see him do it. Like... he'd look at something, and to everyone else it'd change colors. Or it'd turn into an apple, or a pack of cigarettes or something. The illusion was perfect. But it didn't last very long. He did once make me bite into a deck of cards I thought was a candy bar though."
"That _is_ weird," Karen remarked. It seemed unusual phenomenon wasn't limited to just the usual mind-readers and spoon-benders they had on talk shows all the time.
"My guess is it's just evolution tryin' to do it's job," Jimmy postulated. "Think about it: natural selection is supposed to weed out all the individuals in a population with bad genes. But we're civilized, and that means we've basically given evolution the finger. We let stupid people have more children than they can care for. We have hospitals that let people with horrible genetic disorders grow to adulthood and have offspring. We basically do almost everything possible to ensure bad genes don't get eliminated. Look at some modern guy with glasses and diabetes and arthritis. You think he'd survive one fuckin' minute in caveman times? Ha!"
Karen's mind was blown a little. She had learned about evolution one day after school from a really neat TV show on public access. She thought she grasped the concept well enough to know that Jimmy did have a point. But it seemed like kind of a cold-hearted point too. "So what are we supposed to do about it? Every time someone gives birth to a deformed baby, we just kill it?"
"No, no! Hell no! Don't misunderstand me!" Jimmy was quick to clarify. "I'm not even saying there *is* a solution. ...Though now that I think about it, forcing everyone on Earth to take an IQ test before they're allowed to fuck might not be a bad idea." He rubbed his chinfur thoughtfully. "What I mean is, my personal belief is that there's some purpose to evolution. It uses randomness to achieve its goals, but there *is* a set purpose behind it. I mean, that's a nicer thought than just thinking everything in the universe happens for no damn reason, right?"
Karen considered that. "So... God is running evolution?"
The wolf blinked. "I hadn't even thought about it from that angle." He shrugged. "Maybe, I guess. I'm kind of an atheist myself, so I don't quite know how to answer that. All I'm saying is, I'd like to believe life has some meaning to it. And I also happen to believe that whatever it is, we're not there yet. Dinosaurs had a pretty good run. But they weren't smart enough to build big laser beams to blow up incoming meteors. Humans were kinda smart, but basically just a bunch of assholes hellbent on killing each other all the time. Now we're here and I guess that means we're a little closer to what the cosmos was expecting. But not quite all the way.
"Humans stopped their own evolution too. But, of course, their technology ran amuck after the turn of the century and wiped them all out like gassing ants in your basement. In a broad sense, I think that totally qualifies as natural selection. Mother Nature is a mean, stubborn bitch. When she wants her way, she _gets_ it.
"So then furries show up and we're all, 'Yaaay! The humans are gone! Let's make a utopian society and learn from their mistakes!'" He blew a big raspberry. "I don't think I have to tell you how THAT worked out... And once again, we're letting bad genes run amuck. But I think Mother Nature's doing something really sneaky this time. She's making people like you, Karen. You and all the poor bastards locked up in that hellhole over there." He pointed across the street to the asylum.
Karen was trying to wrap her young mind around all this. "You think we're, like, a new species?"
Always-Jimmy-Never-James made a little 'kind of' gesture with his paw. "Possibly. I think it's more likely that we're just here to stir shit up. Make things interesting again. Cause trouble. Make people uncomfortable. Make things *change*."
He turned to her and poked her softly in the chest. "What you have, the thing that's letting you talk to me right now, is not a curse or a gift or anything melodramatic and comic-booky like that. It's a _chance_. Someone rolled some bigass dice, and this is how you ended up. I think it could have been *anybody* who got your power. Could've been your mom. Could've been some kid next door to you. But whether by luck or by destiny, you can talk to dead sonafabitches such as yours truly, and it's up to you to decide what you're going to use that ability for. You can be scared of it, or you can take control of it."
His words began to excite her. "How? How can I take control of it?"
He threw up his hands. "I don't know! Practice! Just try something. You know what I think?"
"What?" she asked.
He took a short puff. "I've been thinking for a long time about how you described your 'nightmares' to me. This is my theory. Back when you had no idea what was happening, you'd fall asleep and your brain would just open wide up and do what it's made to do; communicate. But you didn't know what was going on, so it was like flinging open a window and letting in anything that blew past. Considering how far I traveled looking for someone like you, I'm guessing your particular gift is rare as all hell. I'll bet there're probly *millions* of dead motherfuckers out there just like me; all wandering around looking for someone to talk to. They see you sleeping there and it's like picking up a phone receiver and yelling 'Hello!? Hello!! Is there anyone there!?'. And since you're just a kid, you're scared out of your wits. And I'll bet that makes the message all garbled up too. Your brain insists it's a nightmare, so it *looks* like one to you."
"Wow!" Karen shouted. "That makes a lot of sense!"
He smiled, feeling proud of being able to help her like this. "This right here doesn't feel like a nightmare anymore, does it?"
She shook her head.
"But I bet it did that first time I saw you. When I kinda went all crazy..." he said, sounding ashamed of that.
"I understand," she told him. She patted his knee. "If I had to wait for something that long, I'm sure I'd go a little crazy too when I finally found it."
"Exactly," he nodded. "That, and I'd been in a weird mood that day anyway. Smoked about a thousand of these." He twirled his cig between his fingers like a tiny baton.
Karen thought about Jimmy's telephone simile. "So, okay then... Dead people wanna talk to me because I'm the only one who can listen. Now that I know what's going on, maybe I can improve the connection. If I let it happen, maybe it won't be so scary anymore," she reasoned.
Jimmy smiled brightly. "It's worth a try! Hey, how 'bout right now? Right here and now, you try to open up the lines of communication and see if anyone answers."
"Right now!?" Karen said worriedly.
"Right now," Jimmy insisted. He stood up and held out his paw to her. "It's as good a time as any."
Karen's heart was thumping. The thought terrified her. But it also invigorated her. Could she really just let her nightmares flood in, and welcome them? Was she strong enough? While those questions were asked in doubt, a large part of her actually wanted to see them answered. *Could* she? *Was* she strong enough?
Karen reluctantly reached up to take Jimmy's paw in hers.
"Excellent," he said. He helped her to her feet, then put his hands under her armpits and swung her around, lifting her up in the air across the sidewalk.
"Who-oa! What're you doing!?" she protested, stiffening in alarm.
He plopped her down on the roof of a nearby parked car. "Radio antennas," he explained. "You get better reception the higher up you are."
"Oh," she said, not sure if that applied to her brain or not.
"Go on," Always-Jimmy-Never-James said encouragingly. "Broadcast!"
Karen nodded to him. She looked all around at the silent, dark street. The wind whistled. Leaves and stray newspaper pages were all that stirred. The street stretched off into the night in either direction, blurring around the edges like smeared paint.
The young girl closed her eyes, then willed herself to open like a flower bud.
She looked, and saw only empty night.
"I don't-" she started.
"Look," Jimmy said urgently, pointing the way.
People were approaching. Nothing yet but vague shapes in the distance.
Karen's mind instantly turned to zombie movies. She looked all around and could suddenly see ranks of shabby people emerging from the darkness. They did not shuffle and moan as zombies did. They looked just like normal people. But *tired* people. Even though she could not see their faces yet, she could tell from just how they walked that they were exhausted. And desperate.
They began to call to her.
"Please!"
"Tell my son-!"
"Tell my wife-!"
"I was murdered!"
"The money's hidden in-!"
"I never got to say goodbye!"
"You've got to help me!"
"I've been waiting so long!"
"PLEASE!!!"
The dead approached unceasingly. Karen grew more and more afraid the greater their numbers grew. It was an *ocean* of people. Haggard men, women and children of all ages and species. Their eyes were sunken. Their faces were lined and sagging from endless nights of grief and worry. They came from everywhere, even scrambling out of the forest. Shoulder to shoulder, they squeezed in tighter than sardines, all hoping to be the first to finally get close to her.
"Help me!"
"Help *me*!"
"Help _ME_!!!"
Starting to panic, Karen trembled and swiveled around, feeling trapped. The people were getting closer by the second and she thought they might tear her to pieces when they were finally close enough to reach out and grab hold of her.
"You have to do something!"
"I've been searching forever!!"
"I need help NOW!!!"
Karen opened her mouth to scream... But it was not her voice that rang out.
"*STOP IT*!!!!!"
The sound exploded out of the night like a rifle blast. It seemed to shatter the world. In the blink of an eye, Always-Jimmy-Never-James was up on top of the car beside Karen, placing his paws protectively on her shoulders.
The black wolf seemed to glare at each and every one of the thousands of gathered souls all at once.
"Don't you realize you're scaring the living hell out of this poor girl!?" he bellowed.
The dead halted in their approach.
Though he was only one among uncountable many, Jimmy somehow drew all of their attention to him like a black hole. He was on fire. His whole being vibrated with the force of his words.
"I contacted her because I'm trying to *help* her! But what about all of you? What do you want? What's so goddamned important you have to make this girl wake up in terror every single night of her life!? Huh!?"
Karen could not believe what was happening. The dead people were all staring at Jimmy, not even seeming to notice her anymore.
"What's so important that you have to come to her night after night and scare her so bad!? What, you need to tell your wife where you left the car keys? You didn't get to say goodbye to a loved one?"
He drew in a sharp breath, then screeched, "TOUGH SHIT!!!"
The crowd all backed up. Hundreds of them did. Jimmy's voice was louder than TNT.
Jimmy pointed across the street. "Right now, in that asylum, Karen is sleeping. She is in a place where they will kill her if they can't destroy her mind and make her forget everything she knows about what she can do. She's in what's probably the worst trouble of her entire life...
"...and you people can't leave her alone for a few measly days while she tries to get out of there!?"
Karen saw the unmistakable shame that appeared across many of the faces before her.
"Get the hell out of here," Jimmy ordered. "And while you're at it, think about your priorities. Is what you have to say to her so important? Can it wait? Can't you just say, 'forget about it'?"
His muzzle curled into a hard snarl. "You all know, just as I do, that we have chosen to be here. The true afterlife is a heartbeat away, and you all _know_ this!! Are you really choosing to stay here in this godforsaken empty shithole just so *maybe* you can get a message across to the other side? Or is it because you're too damn scared to face your final judgement?"
Many people nodded. Karen even spotted a handful that, looking determined, suddenly vanished from existence. And more followed.
The black wolf was not yet finished. "_If_, however, you really do have something important to say, if it's something you know you cannot let go of, then all I'm asking you to do is show a little more patience. Me, I've been dicking around here for probably a decade. Maybe more, maybe less. It's kinda hard to tell here, isn't it?"
Nods. A few chuckles and murmurs of agreement.
Jimmy patted the young raccoon on her shoulders. "Karen here has only just begun to understand what this all means. She's braver than she believes, and she's willing to give this thing a shot. If you can just quit bugging her until she's at least relatively safe from getting her brains electroshocked out of existence, then maybe she'll listen to you afterwards. Maybe.
"But this is the most important thing I want you all to remember: IT IS HER CHOICE."
The words echoes like churchbells. Karen felt a shiver run down her spine, like one sometimes feels while listening to a euphoric piece of music.
The dead looked at her now, but their gazes were mostly sympathetic. For many, it was their moment of realization that she was not just some megaphone to the other world they'd been torn away from. She was a real little girl. A furson just like them, with feelings and a life of her own. In order to finally speak the words they'd carried so long inside them, they would have to respect that.
"Leave her alone now. Please," Jimmy said softly. Not an order; a request.
Nodding and speaking softly to themselves, the dead began to disperse.
Karen watched them walk away with awe. To think that all these people needed her help... And there were probably millions more. These were just the ones who had been close enough to heed her call. If she chose to listen, her task in aiding them would be unending. Yet it could also be rewarding. Karen remembered the smile the old cat lady had given her when she promised to take her message to her grandson. She thought she might like to be able to give that same smile to other fursons.
She looked up to Jimmy. "Thank you so much," she said, as heartfelt as she could.
His tail wagged a little. "Aw, no problem," he replied modestly.
She smiled at him. And then she looked back to the crowd of retreating souls. "Wait!!" she cried out.
Puzzled, and maybe a little hopeful, the crowd looked up and turned around.
Jimmy gave her a 'What've you got up your sleeve?' look.
"I just had an idea. About the meeting tomorrow," she said to him.
The dead began to gather around her again. Karen steeled herself and let her voice carry out into the night. "If any of you have any messages for other kids in the mental hospital, or if you know anyone else who does, then I think I might be able to help you. Just line up over here and I'll do my best to try to deliver as many as possible after I wake up."
A vast majority of the dead grumbled disappointedly and began walking away again. But amongst the crowd, here and there, a handful of faces lit up. Parents, siblings and friends began pushing their way forward towards the car Karen stood upon. She could see the relief and joy in their eyes at finally getting the chance they'd waited so long for.
Jimmy chuckled. "Brilliant idea, squirt." He gave her a hearty thumbs up.
"Thanks!" she said.
The souls that remained all got in line before her. There was a little jostling here and there, but overall their high spirits kept them from being rude to one another.
A middle-aged female skunk with years of sorrow reflected in her eyes was first in line. "My son..." she started.
Karen nodded. She hopped down off the car and took the woman's hand.
In a blinding flash, she simply *Knew*.
She nodded to the skunk lady. "I'll remember," she promised her.
"Who's next?" Karen asked.
*****
END OF BOOK TWO
