It’s a Matter of Death and Life: Part 1
By Camospam
Sequel to: A Matter of Fact
Monday September 24, 2007. Whateley Academy: The Quad
A rising sun is normally an indicator of mornings arrival, unless you’re talking about teenagers; who honestly are completely oblivious. In fact most parents believe that an alarm clock needs to have the most obnoxious noise imaginable set at maximum volume to even begin to be effective at wakening a sleeping teen, that or any Brass Monkey tune will suffice.
However, the insistent tapping of a truncheon against Cameron’s foot did manage to get the boy’s attention, the act of raising his eyebrows dragged open a single eyelid which revealed a uniformed man standing above him.
“Up witch ya Lad, can’t be havin ya loiterin aboot ta groonds all day new.”
“Okay, okay, I’m up” yawned the exhausted boy who unsteadily sat upright upon the bench he’d been sleeping on, then stretched the kink out of his neck and flexed his arms to get some feeling back into them “Can you tell me what time it is”?
“It’s nearing 8:30, yah’ll be late fer classes if’in ye don’t be git’n a fire lit.”
“I need to go to the office first” reasoned Cameron who then looked around with a worried expression “Umm, could you show me which way the office is please?”
“Oye, one of those mornin’s be it? I’v seen enuff a mornin when I di’na know which way was up till me feet hit ta groond” sympathized the security officer “C’mon, I’m headin tat way m’self.”
“Thank you” offered Cameron as he grabbed the backpack he’d used as a pillow and stood to join the man.
“Av ye a name lad? I’m not tinking to hav seen ya afore” asked the man as they ambled along the walkway.
“Cameron sir.”
“Ach, a fine Scottish name it be, I’m McTavish. Did ye git yerself n’ta a brouhaha tat ye be a sleep’n out in ta cold - sted a nice warm bed?”
“Just needed to catch some fresh air and set my bearings.”
“Aye, a clear head is good t’hav m-boy.” Using his truncheon to point with “Tat builden be ta office - now off with ya - an be keeping yer nose clean young’n.”
“Thank you officer McTavish, much appreciated”
The ‘office’ was located inside an older brick building, a set of double doors had a sign above it saying ‘Administration’ but a small wood sign standing about knee height and set into a flower bed with shrubs behind it announced that this building was called Schuster Hall.
Cameron recognized the driveway now - his eyes could identify the old blood hidden within the gravel, a cold shiver ran up his spine so it was with great trepidation that he scanned the surrounding area as a precaution.
Taking a seat on the buildings steps Cameron took a moment to prepare himself for what was certain to be a barrage of questions. The boy certainly had a few questions of his own that could use answers, like: why did he wake up in a morgue?
You’d think having coming out of a coma after so long would have been a comparable experience, but in Prince George that was a slow realization with awareness just creeping back slowly - this morning had been a sudden jolt: from absolute blank to full sensory influx. Cameron’s reaction had been bewilderment, then confusion set in, and all the while mixed in with being scared. Sitting in the cold little room he’d started to shake - be it from either panic or being cold.
He’d quickly found his pack and put on a change of clothes, then left the eerie little room and headed upstairs, then outdoors but not encountering anyone along the way. Cameron had looked up at the school’s shields, intently watching the energy pulsations and studying the multiply layers, after many attempts and adjustments he eventually managed to build some non-interfacing protection based upon his usual kinetic dampening and energy absorbing ability; as long as he kept a safe distance they shouldn’t interact adversely.
It was only after finishing with the crucial task of being able to protect himself that Cameron - not knowing where else to go or what else to do, found a bench and had fallen asleep.
Checking the time on his SI phone Cameron decided he’d better break the news to folks back home, so placed a phone call to Special Investigations; but was only able to leave a message for Ray. It was far too early to call Mike Williamson in BC who was 3 hours behind but decided to at least leave a message at his office.
Entering through the door into administration, the hallway lead down to a reception counter, the office behind it was humming with activity, the open area was divided by desks and file cabinets to separate workspaces, however a conspicuous area was cordoned off into a ‘domain’ in one corner, and a few doors closed off private rooms.
Cameron was preoccupied getting the lay of the land so didn’t see the lady waving her hand in-front of him, it wasn’t until she ‘asked if she could help him’ that he focused upon her.
“So sorry, just a touch nervous” confessed Cameron.
“Are the ‘blind man’ glasses for real or show?” questioned the administrator.
“A little of both” answered Cameron.
“Something I can help you with?”
“Yes ma’am, I understand I need to register. I’m a new student”
“Oh my!” responded the lady expressing surprise “We didn’t have anyone set to arrive today … what’s your name dear?”
“Do we use code names now?” queried the boy “I’m not sure what the protocol is?”
The question made the lady chuckle “A common misunderstanding: your real name is fine - but the school makes sure no one knows who you are off campus.”
“Yes Ma’am, Thank you” was said with a smile “Cameron Burke, I had arrived on Friday but was detained until recently.”
The lady behind the counter dug out a couple of papers, and began scrutinizing the information held within, she seemed to find something but became flustered “Ms. Hartford, could I get your help up front ?” she called out.
“What’s up Mrs. Claire?” replied a woman coming out from behind a bank of file cabinets.
“A new student is checking in, his name is on the list, but - well! It’s been crossed off for some reason.”
“What ever for! Let me see?” resulting in Ms. Hartford taking the pages, then asking the boy “Your name?”
“Burke; Cameron Burke … might be under Alex. There always seems to be confusion since I don’t use my first name” supplied Cameron.
“Burke, Burke … here it is” the woman took on a mystified look, then went back into the inner office to return a moment later “We had everything ready for you last week. It’s just that … according to Doyle - your deceased.”
“Hold on a sec… I might be missing something here.” Cameron pondered for a brief second “Whenever Dad played cards and a move was questionable; he’d always say ‘according to Hoyle’ - which I found out later was a guy who wrote a rule book, so I gotta ask: who’s Doyle?
“Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: he wrote …” The woman was set to continue but was interrupted.
“Sherlock Holmes! yes okay, I get the picture.” provided Cameron. “So then - it’s by means of deductive reasoning that I’m assumed dead?”
“NO! It’s because Whateley’s Medical Centre is named after the famous Author, and this report from them says you died!” stated the woman holding another set of pages up giving them a shake.
“But Doyle wrote about a sleuth, and is considered to be the founder of modern forensic’s. Why wouldn’t you have named your police station after Doyle?”
“It’s called Kane Hall” mentioned Mrs. Claire: the first lady he’d spoken to behind the counter.
“Kane? Bob Kane: the creator of Batman? Wait don’t tell me - I’m keen to guess. Detective Comics.” surmised the youth.
“Nailed it” said Ms. Hartford shaking her head in agreement.
“So then Doyle is the medical centre” continued Cameron “… since the stories were written from the perspective of Doctor Watson.”
“I always wondered about that” said Mrs. Claire as Ms. Hartford kept smiling.
“So - I had best be going to ‘Doyle’ and have them confirm that I’m alive” again receiving an affirmative head bob “Since our speaking with each other doesn’t qualify as proof of life.” again the bobbing head reply. “Someone I need to speak with there?”
“Dr. Ophelia Tenant. Do you know the way?” supplied Mrs. Claire.
“I’ll follow the trail of blood.”
The two watched from behind the counter as the boy left, it was only after he’d exited the building before Claire said: “I hope he was joking about the blood.”
“I was having fun watching the gears grind” grinned Ms. Hartford.
“Really? Then how come we’re the ones left standing here wondering if he’d died?”
“D’oh” muttered the assistant headmistress.
Outlook sat in Doyle’s waiting area, when he had requested at reception if he could have an appointment with Dr. Tenant; he’d had to specify Ophelia. He was told she was running late due to a house call at Hawthorne Cottage assisting Dr. Cho, Cameron was directed to have a seat.
Having brought his backpack he took out his laptop, only to discover it had sustained damage in the bear attack: the screen was shattered. Cameron thought for a moment before deciding that this was a good opportunity to make a few improvements - improvements that would allow him to see the screen much easier. After effecting repairs to the screen it would be impossible for someone with only normal sight to see the laptop’s display, considering it looked like a TV with absolutely horrible reception.
Cameron watched from his waiting room vantage point as two young girls entered the medical facility, one assisting the other up to reception, the attendant then had a wheelchair brought for the hurting girl to collapse into, she was taken to a room down the hall to get checked over. The second girl, certainly no bigger than and perhaps a year younger than Cameron looked around the empty waiting room spying its sole occupant.
“This seat taken?” asked the friendly girl with an infectious smile, pointing to the chair beside Cameron.
“Not really, no” replied Cameron “But there’s a room full of empty seats?” He said with a sweeping motion.
“Sure. But you’re in the prime spot; Back to the wall, clear view of all exits. For situational awareness; the next best place is the chair beside you.”
“Then be my guest” offered Cameron.
“Haven’t seen you around! You a Freshthing?” asked the inquisitive youth
“Sorry, a what?”
“A Freshthing, you know; a freshman.”
“Ahhh! guess that’s me. You threw me off there; hadn’t thought I’d gone stale.”
“You didn’t know that first year students are called freshmen?”
“Nope, only used to having grades, you know: 8, 9, 10.”
“What are you? Some kinda foreigner? What happened to your accent?”
“Canadian.”
“There’s a few of your kind on campus: Whateley’s a pretty open minded place … eh? My names Generator.” Offered the big eyed girl.
Shaking the offered hand Cameron added “Outlook! Still trying to get my head around needing a ‘code name’, but it seemed fitting.”
“Heard worse. What’s with the shades? You shoot ‘laser beams’ from your eyes?” asked the girl using her fingers to make quotation marks.
Tipping down his visor Cameron looked at the exuberant girl letting her see the golden coloured glow “Nothing more than a pair of bright eyes.”
“Cool. So what then: melt steel, burn rubber, cook flesh?”
“So far; they’ve been quite handy for finding the washroom at night.”
“Really! wait; that’s actually kinda lame.”
“Called it in one! Give the kid a prize.”
“Comedy?”
“I try. Why? What passes for funny round these parts?”
“Lets see: sarcasm, dry wit, puns that cause retching” stated Generator counting off fingers.
“Humourous anecdotes?”
“Eeew; best look into getting those surgically removed, they might fester.”
“I’ll ask the Doc when I see her. Think it’ll hurt?”
“Only when you laugh!”
“Oddly enough, that makes sense.”
“So what’d you win in the powers lottery?”
“Unclassified actually. So far everyone’s just been spit balling. I gather more testing is in my future" confessed Outlook "What about you?”
“Devisor. Wanna see one of my inventions?” she retrieved something from out of one the multitude of pockets, it was a disc bearing an odd-looking cat emblem “I call it ‘Kitty Compact’” it began rotating and took off flying.
The unfolding story didn’t’ jive with reality; Generator didn’t have an energy signature that looked like Smith’s at all – if anything it was more akin to Decimal but still with huge differences, before the disc took-off there appeared to be a transfer of energy into it and now Generator herself looked less … vital? Also, the disc had no internal workings aside from some wires for lights and sound plus the extending blades - yet it had the same energy pattern as the girl.
“That’s sweet: magnetic or gravity drive?” asked Cameron.
“It’s a secret so nobody steals my ideas” confided the girl holding out her hand as the spinning disc returned. The two noticed from their vantage point that Generator’s friend was being discharged after having been attended to and now had a bandage wrapped around her leg “Guess we’d better get back to class, see you around”.
Cameron remained sitting in the waiting room doing as the namesake required: waited.
During this lull he made another phone call to Mike Williamson: his guardian. This time he answered and proceeded to pepper the youth for details, he eventually seemed pacified when Cameron told him he was at the hospital to get a check-up, but Cameron could only fill him in on the details leading up to the attack, and the more recent events of this morning. Cameron promised to call back since the lady at reception had called three times for “Outlook” and it didn’t immediately click that that was him.
Cameron was shown to an examination room, and told to climb onto the table and that the Doctor would be with him in a minute.
The person who entered next wore doctor whites, she had long hair which had an energy signature imbedded within and moved contrary to normal, the woman also had a different kind of energy pocket centred in her chest which Cameron had seen similar to before but had not identified yet.
“I was told you asked specifically for me to do an examination” said the lady.
“Yes Ma’am, I’m Cameron Burke” answered the boy
Watching the woman faint was like having everything shift into slow motion, she twisted in a spiral as she crumpled downward collapsing to the floor, her hair looking like wings fanning out behind her.
Cameron quickly recalled a mattress from warehouse and positioned it beneath her, thereby catching her fall. Then the boy snagged the pillow off the exam table using it to prop up her head, Cameron began to gently put her into the recovery position; it only took a few breaths before she revived.
“You’re about as subtle as a freight train” she said looking at the boys face while she slowly raised herself up “Where did this bed come from?”
“Freight train” replied Cameron, deciding to joined her down on the floor and sat cross -legged “I had hoped giving my name at reception might have been enough to lesson the blow.”
“I didn’t clue in” then after staring questioningly at the boy she finally asked “How?”
“Doc, I was hoping you would be able to answer that question.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know I was attacked by a bear - but haven’t any memory after being slammed into: Did I survive the attack? If so - how come I found a death certificate? Did you give me some kind of medicine that took longer to act then expected?”
“Looks like we have a mystery to solve.”
“Should I take comfort from this being the Arthur Conan Doyle Medical Centre?”
“Can’t hurt” smiled the lady “First up: explain the bed?”
“I brought it out so you wouldn't get hurt.”
“You manifest beds?”
“No! it already existed - I just had it tucked away, stuff like this comes in handy.”
“Thank you for it” commented the doctor as she relaxed a little on the mattress “Second; you hadn’t been playing dead or hiding in a deep trance had you?”
“No doctor, I. I … think I was dead.”
“Why do you suppose that? Did you see a bright light?”
“Nothing of the sort - I have nothing between the bear and waking up downstairs in the morgue.”
“What do you remember of the attack?”
“Bear! Big bear!” exclaimed Cameron “It hit me real hard, I heard a snap in my neck and … I don’t recall falling to the ground - but I must have.”
“Your neck was broken; you likely lost consciousness with that.”
Hearing that news from the doctor Cameron reached up and massaged his neck “So I take it the attack didn’t stop there.”
“There were multiply lacerations; your heart was nearly torn from your body” tears began to track down the boys cheeks hearing this news “when we tried defibrillation on your heart; it wouldn’t respond, so it was necessary to resort to life support.” Cameron had pretty much stopped breathing while following the doctors account “Your condition didn’t improve, your body was shutting down: until” paused the doctor “Until there was nothing more that could be done - you were gone.” She finally admitted hanging her head down.
“Forgive me doctor, I’m having difficulty taking all this in” confided the boy. “ I … Thank You for trying so hard” sincerely said Cameron “Umm, can you explain why I don’t have any scars?”
“You’re kidding! I worked for hours sewing you up.”
“Seriously - I don’t have a scratch.”
“Alright you; up on the exam table” directed the woman as she picked herself up off the floor “This I have to see.”
After removing his shirt Cameron was the object of Ophelia’s undivided attention.
Doctor Tenant was extraordinarily meticulous in conducting her examination of Cameron, she expended all effort and ran every conceivable test to protect her reputation as a doctor: mistakingly declaring someone dead is a mis-diagnosis not taken lightly. She made certain all current and previous scans and x-rays had date stamps to verify her earlier actions and decisions.
Camerons medical file ended up being extremely thick, but he came away with a clean bill of health. Ophelia had poured over ever detail, questioning the boys medical history, and rechecking all recorded injuries - as well as another blood test looking for the meta-gene.
Ophelia had to question his files comments about self healing: Had he been playing possum?
Cameron explained to the physician how he healed by means of manipulating molecules, and he needed to be conscious in-order to see and do that. The Doctors curiosity about his ability could only be satiated through demonstration: She called in Nurse Bonny, who she knew had arthritis in a knee, and coerced Cameron to heal the painful limb - the x-ray taken afterward showed no indications of the ailment.
It was much later in the day and Cameron was rather wore-out after the exhaustive barrage of tests, he lay on the examination room table in an attempt to re-coup his strength. When Ophelia entered the room she looked at the prone boy:
“You’re not dying on me again are you? After all we went through to prove your alive!”
“Ha Ha, It is to laugh!”
“Robin Hood Daffy.”
“You’re a fan?”
“Yoinks. And away!”
“I knew I liked you.”
“Want to hear the test results.”
“Okay, but this time I’m sure I have a fighting chance against a 98 pound weakling.”
“That’s pretty good - I might need to steal that line.”
“Your’s for the taking.”
“I can: without any doubt or reservation confirm - you’re alive!”
“And how might I ask, did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“Because you’re not dead.”
“I guess I deserve that.”
“It gets better” comforted the doctor “I made certain there was no necrosis in your body, all body tissue is active and healthy, lab work found no dead cells, so you’re not a zombie or a re-animated corpse."
“Wait … you’ve run tests on the walking dead before?”
“This is Whateley Academy! It might surprise you what comes through the door.”
“On a regular basis?”
“Tuesdays mostly.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking?”
It had taken a long - long time to finally get cleared by Dr. Ophelia, but he was provided with an official document stating that Alex Cameron Burke was indeed alive, he took a picture of it and sent it to Mike Williamson.
Next step; back to Schuster Hall, and of course: more waiting.
The lady at reception took the doctors statement and filed it into Cameron’s official school record, then asked the boy to take a seat in the hallway.
Cameron’s seat was a wood bench situated in the hallway and it had to be the most uncomfortable piece of furniture imaginable, comfort was simply not considered when this atrocity was made. Taking a few minutes Cameron reshaped the woodworking thereby adjusting the bench to provide some relief to a weary body.
He was just beginning to enjoy the fruit of his endeavour when a nicely dressed man sat down next to him.
“Hmm. Not bad: good lumbar support, nice back alignment, pleasant curvature at the thighs.”
“You’ve become a connoisseur of benches now?”
“A nice place to sit and take a load off is one of the finer things in life.”
“Yeah, about that: I get the whole having to die bit … but coming alive like that was some freaky.”
“Life is the exact opposite to death, you either are - or you aren’t.”
“Please don’t start quoting the Parrot sketch.”
“It might help lighten your mood.”
“No, I’m good” confided Cameron “Have I missed something that you’re here?”
“You’re doing just fine. But do take a look at this” the man held up a small energy sphere “attune your fields to this modulation and you’ll be invisible.”
Cameron inspected the ball intently and then made the corrections suggested, when he looked back up the bench was empty beside him.
It was shortly after this exchange that two Whateley Security officers came up to the reception desk speaking with Mrs. Claire who then pointed at Cameron.
“Cameron Burke?” asked one of the men.
“Yes sir”
“Please come with us, Security Chief Delarose wants to speak with you.”
“Ohh” realized Cameron “Should have seen that coming. Lead on.”
And then: more waiting.
This time in Kane Hall’s waiting room, it was at least a little more private than sitting in the school hallway had been, with passing students sneaking curious looks Cameron’s way as he’d sat affixed to that bench.
Now the waiting space he occupied was under the watchful eye of an officer posted at the first contact station, he was seated behind the counter but every few moments the officer would look towards Cameron to ensure he was behaving himself.
Cameron waved at him which earned the boy a smile.
Eventually Cameron was called to enter, and brought into a small meeting space which held a table and chairs, he was shown to a seat and then left to sweat. The table he sat behind had two long sets of gouges which deeply marred the otherwise smooth surface, Cameron took the table top into warehouse and withdrew another wood surface to replace it with.
When the door opened a large uniformed man entered, he held a file folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other: He offered a “Good Morning” in his deep husky voice.
“Hi. Guess I’ve lost track of time, thought it was evening at the latest.”
“Ugh, nope - just me, I work nights mostly” admitted the burly man “But imagine my surprise to find out who had shown up at Admin today”.
Cameron pointed at himself with an innocent look.
“Yup!” answered the man just before taking a sip from his mug “You say you’re Cameron Burke, can I see some ID?”
Cameron lifted his backpack up off the floor and placed it on the table, then began rooting around inside before pulling out some cards, he needed a way to obscure bringing them out from the ‘Cupboard’.
“I have my Birth Certificate, Social Insurance Number, British Columbia Health Card, Credit Card.”
“Photo identification!”
“Ah! of course.” He said returning into the pack, he stopped “May I ask for your ID first?”
The man raised his eyebrow at the boy “Good call.” He then set down in-front of the youth his Whateley Security photo ID embossed in gold lettering.
“Franklin Delarose. Chief of Security” read Cameron “Does that mean you’re the Boss?”
“That it does. Now; yours please”.
“Certainly. First up is my passport” the small booklet was retrieved and then set onto the table.
Looking at the photo inside and then reading the pertinent info the man snerked “Why’s it red, did the forger make a mistake?”
“No mistake: it’s a diplomatic passport.” replied Cameron “Perhaps this might be a better explanation” was proffered as he set down his RCMP ID and badge placing them mid table.
Taken aback the chief inspected both items closely, then looked across the table with a tilted head trying get a read on the boy.
Cameron remembered that all official photo’s required a person to be looking stern, so Cameron tried hard not to smile - even thou that was precisely what he’d always end up doing to hide his nervousness.
Standing and saying he’d be right back the chief left the room and returned a few minutes later with a printout of RCMP rankings.
Cameron felt this was a good time to bring the topic up; so said “I hope you don’t mind Chief. I was given a letter to hand deliver: It’s addressed to you … well: the Chief of Police” handing over Ray Martin’s introductory letter to the man.
“Hold tight” said the man as he began to read the personal letter, he mumbled something at points but stopped partway though and commented “Damn MCO!” but continued reading before getting a reply. A grunt signified finishing the letter and his attention returned to Cameron.
“You’ve been in protective custody; did you come to hide at Whateley?”
“No sir, While I suspect this schools practice of providing a safe haven was integral to my guardian and the RCMP allowing me to come here. I only wanted to go to school - everything else just kinda snowballed.”
“This man: Ray, recommends I ‘hire’ you.”
“I hadn’t given that consideration" admitted Cameron "I figured I’d be busy with - well, learning.”
“Good. I couldn’t use you anyway: We are strictly a Security detail, to have a police officer on-staff could contravene our neutrality.”
“Okay! I don’t have a problem with being just another student.”
“However: having an active officer of the law on campus has the potential to create huge problems. For you - and for me.”
“But you do believe I’m who I say I am?”
“I’m convinced! I don’t know how - but you are Cameron Burke, so put away your ID and don’t be waving it around at anybody… ever.” cautioned the Chief. “Now Cameron; I need to ask you about being attacked. Do you know who your attacker was?”
“You mean what don’t you? Even if you’ve named that bear you’d still refer to it as a what.”
“No prior history with bears?”
“My friends and I came across a bear with her cubs while hiking - I can’t imaging it’s related. Besides this bear is extremely ferocious, while that other one had only been protecting her family.”
“Do you know why you were attacked?”
“Nope! Don’t know what set it into a rage. But - one of your men was there. Did he see what offended it?”
Delarose shook his head in the negative, then asking “Are you a wizard? A magic user?”
“No. Aside from sleight of hand tricks on TV: I’ve never even actually seen magic.”
“Can you show me your MID?”
“Don’t have one! So far all the testing they’ve done says I’m not a mutant.”
“Are you a Were?”
“No. Although I’ve encountered them twice now: a family when traveling across Canada, and a village under siege."
“What can you tell me about the village?”
“A small remote community on the East coast. They had been invaded by other Were’s who had been corrupted by a black contaminate. The village had been decimated, but we managed to rescue some survivors.”
“Did your encounter include fighting them?”
“Yeah, we found that Silver bullets and intense light worked. Are you asking because you’ve encountered them too?”
“Yes, we’ve taken to calling them Voodoo Wolves.”
“Would you be willing to share intel with the RCMP?”
“I can try to set something up - with the gentleman who wrote the letter?”
“Ray: Yes. That would be most helpful.”
“Explain to me about this bounty that’s been put on your head?”
“Somebody out there doesn’t like me very much” confessed Cameron “all the attacks so far link directly back to the MCO, but Ray suspects it’s bigger than that.” Cameron considered a thought for a second “I don’t suppose Whateley Academy has an MCO trained bear on campus?”
“Ahh - no! There isn’t a connection to the MCO.”
“It looks like we have a problem then: I didn’t antagonize the beast, and it’s shown itself to be aggressive and disposed to kill … will it be put down?”
“We can’t do that.”
“And here is where I must conjecture as to why not … because it isn’t just a ‘bear’: perhaps a student that can transform, like a shapeshifter or … a Were. Is that why you asked if I was a Were?”
“I cannot comment.”
“Strange, I’d have thought you would want to get to the bottom of this.”
“I act within the boundaries governing this school, I can’t disclose who your attacker is - just like I can’t reveal who you are to them.”
“Excuse me! You said they don’t even know who I am … yet wanted to kill me! You have an odd idea about what protecting somebody means.”
“Whateley is neutral! We are only a Security detail; I can’t relinquish information that could lead to a personal vendetta or start a turf war.”
“But you will allow someone to continue a killing spree?”
“You were the only one attacked.”
“Which resulted in my death: It was murder!”
“Yet here you are.”
“Good point, semantics aside: there is proof of death. But even so - attempted murder.”
“It’s out of my hands, as I said: ‘Whateley is neutral’, only the headmistress deals with punishment.”
“Am I allowed to report that a crime has been committed?”
“That is your right.”
“Might I be able to contact the local police department?”
“Certainly, this is the number for the Medawihla tribal police” handing over a business card to the boy.
“Thank you, Hope you don’t mind if I make the call now.”
“I’ll be in my office when your done.”
Cameron used his SI phone to place the call.
“Medawihla police, what seems to be the problem?”
“Oh Hello, my name is Cameron Burke: I’m calling to report a murder - or attempted murder.”
“It’s one or the other kid. The difference is pretty obvious.”
“It’s not as simple as one might think.”
“Okay, okay. Where did the murder take place?”
“Whateley Academy.”
“Should have known. And who was killed?”
“I was.”
“And your sure this warrants bringing the police in on?”
“A crime was committed, it should be handled by the proper authorities.”
“All right kid. Listen up: Whateley is a hands off place for us, their internal security usually deals with most issues.”
“Yes, I’m at their office now, I got your number from them.”
“I’ll talk to the Chief, see what she wants to do, stay on the line for a minute.”
Cameron only had to wait a minute or two.
“Kid?”
“Yes, Hello.”
“She’s super busy right now, normally she would take care of Whateley herself, but she’s asked Ben to go out to the school. You’ll be at Kane Hall right?”
“Yes sir, I’ll stay at Kane Hall. Thank you.”
Finding Chief Delarose’s office was pretty easy as it was located beside the bullpen - and it had a name plate on the door.
“Pardon me Mr. Delarose, I was told someone was being dispatched, a fellow named Ben.”
“It will take awhile for him to arrive. Anything you need in the meantime?”
“Don’t suppose you’ve got a bed nearby, I’m feeling very tired.”
“Down that hall are some jail cells - they have bunks, you okay with that?”
“Not the first time I’ve slept behind bars.”
“I didn’t hear that.”
“Thanks much.”
When Eloise Donner asked Ben to take care of a problem at Whateley, she was certain that the Medawihla Tribe just needed to make an appearance to settle an onsite dispute, he was being sent to put out a fire.
It wasn’t the first time that the Were’s had needed to make an appearance, it was their territory and had say over how laws are interpreted and how tribal rules get applied; usually it was as challenging to resolve such disputes as when a couple dogs fought over a bone.
The Security Officer at the gate waved him in and Ben parked near to Kane Hall, upon entering the schools Security office Franklin Delarose was quick to meet him at reception. Frank was close to Ben in size: only an inch or so shorter but the men had developed a comfortable familiarity and both gave the respect due the other.
“Couldn’t have handled this on your own?” was Bens greeting.
“I support the kid having called you, this is something the Medawihla should be aware of.”
“Where is he?”
“In the back, he’s in a cell.”
Cameron had claimed a bunk in as quiet a spot available and was fast asleep, he stirred when he heard his name being called and rolled up to sitting upon the bunks edge. Looking out of the cell while adjusting his covered sight; standing beside Delarose was a big Were. Although he was in human form the signature was telling - being too near a match to be otherwise: a bear.
“Cameron; This is Ben from the Medawihla people” introduced the Security Chief.
Cameron stood and neared the cell bars but kept a distance. Ben extended his arm into the cell offering his hand to shake, Cameron didn’t move to accept the gesture instead keeping a ‘safe’ distance.
“I mean no disrespect, but this cell works both ways - you might see it as keeping me in - but it also keeps you out, I’m not inclined to get within reach of a bear.”
Ben had a look of shock while Chief Delarose nodded in understanding.
“Have we meet?” asked Ben curious to know how this boy knew his nature.
“Not that I know of” replied Cameron looking to the Chief “Is this someone I can trust?”
“Trust is something that is earned, but you have no need to fear Ben. Perhaps my office is better suited to have a discussion?”
“Could we use the meeting room instead” suggested Cameron “It’s not infested.” To which Delarose nodded in agreement, after unlocking the cell door he then escorted them down to the room.
Upon entering the Security Chief wrote a small note to Cameron asking how many listening devices were in his office. Cameron scrawled ’16’ and returned the note.
The Chief raised his eyebrows and shared the note with Ben as a courtesy due to his look of puzzlement. After a moment of consideration the Chief wrote on the note asking about the meeting room they sat in.
“Nothing here now, we can speak freely” spoke Cameron.
“What about the bugs in your office?” asked Ben.
“Fumigation works wonders” supplied Cameron “wipes out everything.”
“I enjoy the chirping sound they make, helps me think” retorted Delarose.
The message was understood - thou they might not understand the why.
Ben sat close to Cameron and began sniffing the air, after which the Were became agitated but kept it to himself. “So what happened that the Medawihla need to step in?” questioned Ben.
“I was attacked and killed … by a bear” stated Cameron.
That statement made the Were make a serious expression and mull over his next words “I take it, this was not an actual bear?”
The chief informed all at the table “No, and Whateley’s charter specifically demands for us to remain neutral, I am not allowed to disclose the identity.”
“But murder - or attempted murder; as the case may be, is a serious offence. The Medawihla should take the matter to the State police to deal with” confessed Ben.
“Which is why Cameron placed the call to you. But there’s more: Cameron if you would?” inclined the Chief
“I’m an RCMP officer - on assignment in the United States.”
“Oh boy!” Startled the Were “You’re saying it’s not just internal, but potentially international. Is there anything in Whateley’s charter that addresses a situation like this?”
“I’ve been reading it over - for obvious reasons.” Supplied Delarose “The intent had been to prevent anyone with a grievance from coming onto campus and enforcing a law - such as arresting someone for a crime committed off campus. Whateley acts as sanctuary while that person is on-campus.”
Ben nodded in understanding, while Cameron sat soaking in the details.
Delarose continued “When a crime happens inside Whateley - within the boundaries established upon Medawihla lands. The headmaster decides if external policing needs to be involved: using a floating scale to determine the seriousness of the crime. Petty theft and fighting would be dealt with internally as an example. More to the point: Grievous injury and death should have outside police involvement.”
“So why is it Frank, that Cameron placed the call to us - and not you?”
“Two reasons Ben: first he is a police officer and has taken the step to notify the local police independently of Whateley Security - at his own behest. Secondly; Whateley has not aided an external nation or agency by divulging information regarding an internal incident - keeping itself neutral.”
“What does Elizabeth think about this?” questioned Ben.
“She hasn’t been brought up to speed yet, she’ll arrive back to school tomorrow.”
“Sorry, who is Elizabeth?” interjected Cameron.
“Mrs. Carson; the Headmistress.”
“This is … this is some serious stuff. I’m out of my depth here. I’d better head back home and talk to Eloise, see how she wants to handle it.” Standing the man leaned over to shake the Chief’s hand “Frank; as always a pleasure” then turning to face Cameron he didn’t offer his hand to the boy. Cameron however likewise stood presenting his hand to the big man who took it “Cameron, despite the situation; good to meet you.”
Left alone in the meeting room Frank looked at Cameron “It’s gotten late: what do I do with you?”
“If it’s alright: can I go back to sleep?”
Cameron had been soundly asleep in his cell when a loud disturbance woke him. Two Security officers brought a youth into the holding area, he yelled at the world for all to hear: ‘he’d been wronged, a mistake had been made, he was innocent’. He was locked into the cell across from Cameron.
He quietened down after awhile but remained agitated, he called over to Cameron “Hey, Hey you.”
Half asleep Cameron acknowledged the youth “What?”
“What they got you in here for?”
“Just go to sleep!”
“C’mon dude; I’m being framed - it was entrapment. How can you possibly sleep in here?”
“Cause I’m tired.”
“Why they have you in here?”
“Illegally parked in a handicap zone.”
“Man! their harsh.”
“I’m blind. Everything looks like a handicap stall to me.”
“Oh!”
After a few minutes, just as Cameron was on the verge of sleep:
“Hey, you wanna bust outta here?”
“Can it wait till morning?”
“Yeah, sure. Good idea.”
Tuesday September 25, Kane Hall
The boy wasn’t thrilled when morning came far too quickly, but standing in front of the little mirror inside his cell he did a double take - according to his sight he’d grown overnight; roughly 3 inches, no wonder he’d been so tired last night and it would explain how come the bunks mattress was so uncomfortable. No wait - it really is as lumpy as it felt when trying to sleep on it.
Cameron brought some bread out of storage, toasting it and ate it with Saskatoon jam, as well as some fresh fruit. He checked over his phone and laptop ensuring the batteries were topped up. A security officer walked past the cages and Cameron asked for the wifi code, after checking if it was allowed it was given to him and he connected to the internet.
Cameron sent off emails to both Ray and Mike explaining the situation with Whateley Security, giving Mike a copy of the Doctors report. Cameron was in the middle of composing a nice long letter to Grace when his neighbour woke up - everything the kid did was a production, each move made was accompanied by groans and complaints and he made certain everyone heard ‘he was innocent’.
“Hey; Dude. Did I miss breakfast?” he called over.
“No, nothing delivered as yet”
“Arn’t they supposed to feed us? Isn’t that in the Geneva convention?”
“Did you declare war on Whateley?”
“No!”
“Then the Geneva convention doesn’t apply, but international human rights would require a person being held prisoner be fed.”
“What about somebody who’s a mutant?”
“Now that’s a darn good question! Does being a mutant disqualify you from being human? I’m going to ask my guardian about that.”
Cameron quickly wrapped up his letter and sent it to Grace, then sent Mike Williamson an email.
The response from Mike was slow in coming but read ‘Cameron you’re a genius’.
A series of emails was shared between the two - somewhere in the interchange the guards brought in breakfast, but Cameron wasn’t hungry so sent his plate over to his neighbour.
Mike in his excitement had corralled everyone at the Prince George prosecutors office to check standing laws and dig into old case histories. Cameron had sparked pursuit of a new legal angle: If a person with disabilities is granted all the rights and freedoms of a ‘human’ then why aren’t persons with abilities?
Schuster Hall
Elizabeth Carson had only been away from campus for an extra long weekend, leaving Whateley Thursday night and after attending to some school business she had headed to New York to do some shopping and then just enjoy herself: catching a play and meeting up with some old friends. She pulled into her parking stall just outside Schuster Hall and was satisfied to find that everything looked just like she’d left it.
Stepping into the office Liz said ‘Good Morning’ to everybody, but the tone of greeting she received from Amelia said something was wrong. Amelia Hartford walked into the Headmistresses office a step behind Elizabeth - holding two large folders, it was apparent the shoe was about to drop.
“Which one should I look at first ?” quizzed the headmistress
“I suggest this one” stated Amelia handing over the hefty file “Chief Delarose, Ophelia, and Mrs. Donner are already in the conference room.”
“Eloise is here! Just how bad is it?” worried Liz as she started walking out the door.
“Liz. I’m not even sure where to start trying briefing you on this. Hope you don’t mind if I join the meeting?” said Amelia following Liz to the conference room
Entering the meeting space, Mrs Carson greeted each of the occupants and took the chair at the tables head “Who wants to go first?”
There was a brief battle of glances between the Doctor and Security Chief with the Chief relenting and gesturing for Ophelia to go first.
“On Friday morning a new student arrived at Whateley and was attacked outside Schuster Hall, he was rushed to Doyle and received emergency medical care: but all efforts proved fruitless. He succumbed to his injuries and was pronounced dead on Sunday afternoon when life support was disconnected. On Monday morning that same student showed up at Schuster Hall to register with the school, he was sent to Doyle for an examination.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” asked Mrs. Carson with a scrutinizing look at Dr. Tenant.
“The extensive examination conducted upon the youth concluded that the two individuals are indeed the same person: blood and DNA tests are identical, we even did a full chemical analysis which showed no deviation. It’s the same boy. There is no evidence remaining of the trauma suffered including no scaring or cellular necrosis.”
“What kind of scars are we talking about?” put forward the headmistress.
Ophelia passed some photo’s over to Elizabeth who was taken aback by the dreadful damage depicted by the deep gouges intersecting a torso. Dr. Tenant continued “The medical report is very detailed, it is beyond doubt that the boy died.”
Elizabeth looked at her assistant with a dumbfounded expression, Amelia mouthed back ‘wait for it’
Chief Delarose took the pause to indicate it being his turn.
“Security officer McTavish had driven the boy from the entrance gate up to Schuster Hall parking lot where the attack took place. McTavish administered CPR until relieved in Doyle. At the scene a rumour was spreading that the school was facing an imminent invasion. I sent Samantha Everhart out with squad 4 to conduct a perimeter sweep: no indication of trouble was detected. There is camera footage of the attack from 5 angles: it leaves little to the imagination regarding the event. After interrogation at Kane Hall the perpetrator was released.”
Mrs. Carson said: “We can forgo the adjectives and just use names.”
“Do we want the involved individuals names made public?” wondered the Security Chief as he made a gesture of circling the room with a finger.
“I have to expect that privacy of individuals will be honoured, or the wrath of this school will be faced by whoever discloses a confidential matter.” Said Mrs. Carson not for the benefit of those meeting together, but for anyone listening in.
“Very well: Elaine Nalley was released from custody into the care of Mrs. Horton” disclosed Delarose.
“What could the boy have done to infuriate Elaine and make her resort to violence?”
“Cameron did nothing.”
“He must have! Elaine is as peaceable as they come - she does everything possible to avoid a fight.”
“I am aware, but…”
“She’s called Loophole because she tries to find a way around conflict!”
“Yes, but…”
“She’s the most trustworthy and dependable student I’ve had in years.”
“Of course Mrs. Carson, but the thing is - Grizzly was manifest during the attack.”
“What does the boy have to say for himself?” interrupted Mrs Donner.
“He is only aware of being attacked by a bear, and has no memories until waking in Doyle’s morgue” informed Delarose.
“Does he know who attacked him?” Inquired Eloise Donner.
“No, he at first felt it was simply an animal attack - but has since begun to suspect it to be an unknown person.”
“So this boy: Cameron is it?”
“Cameron Burke: uses the code name ‘Outlook’’’ added Amelia Hartford.
“Thank you. Cameron has no lasting physical injuries?”
“No Liz, he’s completely healed up.” supplied Ophelia “Quite amazing."
“Then we can dismiss this as being a minor disagreement between two students, I will assign Miss Nalley some detention.” The headmistress looked around the table for consensus - and didn’t receive it from anyone but Amelia.
“There is more Elizabeth. Outlook sought police involvement for the murder / attempted murder of himself.” informed Franklin Delarose.
“Which brought the Medawihla to the table” interjected Mrs Donner
“Damnit Frank, why did you take it outside Whateley?”
“I didn’t. And I assure you everything possible was done to protect Whateley’s neutrality” forcefully stated Delarose, then added “A police officer followed due process by reporting a crime - as he is sworn to do.”
“When did we hire an active policeman?” Shouted Liz Carson at her Security Chief.
“We haven’t” retorted Franklin Delarose, settling his nerves before continuing “Cameron Burke is a Staff Sergeant with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”
“He’s a Mountie,” gasped Amelia Hartford.
“You can’t be serious!” said Mrs. Carson shaking her head in disbelief.
“I’m very serious and it gets worse: he’s on a diplomatic mission to attend Whateley Academy”.
“Did we know any of this when he applied?” asked Ms Hartford.
“I’m afraid I must add something else to this conversation,” interceded Eloise. “The boy is marked, it is Were custom for him to be granted full tribal status and protection.”
Elizabeth Carson dropped her forehead into her cupped hands saying “Oh God! I hate Tuesdays”.
End Part 1
It’s a Matter of Death and Life: Part 2
By Camospam
Sequel to: A Matter of Fact
Tuesday, September 25, 2007. Whateley Academy: Schuster Hall
Elizabeth Carson’s face almost touched the muzzle opposing her, she felt the hot breath being exhaled in bursts as it washed over her nose, her vision was blocked by the nearness of the snout prominent on a wide furred face; the blackest black nose indented by flared nostrils met bristle ends of short fur running up the bears face. The beasts eyes where big and menacing, Mrs. Carson was checking those dark pits in hopes of seeing something of the girl: Elaine. Some indicator of the intelligence, compassion, any hint of the humanity that the teacher had come to love about the student. She found nothing; and that thought scared her most.
Lady Astarte and Grizzly held the standoff for long moments, fighting a battle of wills, neither one backing down - and neither one ready to escalate this to a physical conflict, each waiting tensely for the other to make the first move.
Liz began calculating which attacks would be most effective to take down the Avatar, what containment spells might restrain a raging animal, could she appeal to the girl within - and wondered if she was truly even there. She recalled the photos of the deep gouges on the boy and became concerned over how much injury she could sustain from those claws. But unflinching and unyielding she stayed her ground; until.
“Don’t ever threatening me!” eventually came growled through bared teeth.
“It's a matter of fact: murder is potentially a 20 year sentence,” sounded the heroine
“20 years in jail is a threat.” was spat in response.
Liz challenged by stating: “And murder is a crime!”
“Is a soldier charged with murder when he kills the enemy?”
“What enemy? You don’t even know who you killed.”
“It’s been explained: it was a minion of ‘The Bastard’, it came here to scout out Whateley’s numbers and defences in preparation for another attack”
“You know this how?”
“It stunk of Were’s and Mytho’s magic: the smell of voodoo wolves.”
“Did you know your claim was tested out by Security.”
“What? did somebody analyze the grease spot they leave behind?”
“No. Your victim lived a short time afterward, it was determined to be neither a Were nor was any magic found. Plus - there was a corpse left behind in Doyle’s basement. It didn’t dissolve like you’ve imagined.”
“It matters not, I did what needed to be done to protect Elaine.”
“It does matter! In fact you’re likely facing a murder rap - you have harmed Lanie by ruining her life: you have broken your vow.”
“The vow is intact, she agreed to the course taken.”
“Was it an informed decision?”
‘You question what you cannot comprehend: ‘The hosts will is my will, there is no separation between us …’”
“‘And there is no separating you.’ Yes: I’ve heard the avatar creed.”
“Host and Spirit act as one.”
“And that is the sad truth.”
Kane Hall
Cameron was keeping himself occupied inside the jail cell by sending and replying to emails, he’d had to explain umpteen times now that he was ‘okay’. He noticed that something was happening up front so focussed upon that area, he spotted Ben from the Mediwahla tribe and there was another Were with him; a werecat.
The two had a Security escort bring them back to the holding area, Ben smiled upon seeing the boy.
“Cameron, would you mind having a couple visitors?” Asked the big man.
“Of course” he said as he closed up his computer.
“I would like to introduce you to Eloise Donner: she is the Mediwahla tribes Chief.”
“A pleasure” commented Cameron as he shook the ladies hand “Am I correct in guessing a werepanther.”
“You guess correctly - but I would like to know how you did that.”
“Energy signatures: everybody has them: normals, mutants and were’s. I’m just starting to be able to distinguish the differences.”
“Some kind of second sight?”
“No. All matter is energy, energy in different applications has defined patterns - I see energy much like you would colours.”
“I am hoping to speak with you … but don’t like doing so through bars.”
The three were granted use of the small meeting room. Once inside Mrs Donner commenced “Cameron, the Were people have a long held tradition of welcoming marked individuals.”
“I hope you don’t mind explaining that - I’ve had someone else say that I’m marked - and I don’t know what that’s about?”
“Marking is a scent that acts as an outward indicator that a Were female has chosen you.”
“Kinda like saying we’re dating?“
Ben roared with laughter “That’s cute! No boy - you must know the significance of a ring on a normals left hand ring finger?”
“Marriage!”
“For Were’s, scents are used.”
“Why that little minx!”
“You didn’t know?”
“I only thought she was encouraging a friendship.”
“Did she kiss you publicly: in-front of family and friends and place her neck against yours?”
“Yes…”
“Then my young fellow - it’s binding… congratulations!”
Cameron sat in deep contemplation, and despite himself couldn’t shake the smirk.
“Who is she? Your minx?” asked Ben.
“You might know her Mom: she said she lived near to Whateley. Terry… Terry Franklin. Do you know her?”
Eloise reeled from the revelation. But it was Ben who responded “Yes, we know Teresa: she’s Eloise’s sister.”
Eloise gradually returned to the conversation by saying “We haven’t spoken for years, I’d heard she had two sons: Alan and Lawrence - nothing about a daughter.”
“Her name is Lynn.”
“Is she … special?”
“Is your question regarding my feelings towards her?”
“Her mother could see the future - she always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else.”
“I suspect Lynn is five steps ahead of her mom.”
“That’s … surprising,” Eloise was wrapped up deep in thought for so long Ben nudged her and pointed towards Cameron with his chin “Cameron, may I see your eyes?” When Cameron lowered his visor both the Were’s gasped “Golden eyes!”
“Sorry! I keep them covered since people are freaked out by them.”
“They’re certainly distinctive.”
“That they are” confided the boy “I think I’m due for a long conversation with a certain someone. But before that: you had said I was welcome in your tribe, what does that mean?”
Schuster Hall
Elizabeth Carson sat in her chair and leaned it back as she looked out the window, the tree’s surrounding Whateley Academy had just started to turn from the lustrous greens of summer to the oranges and reds of autumn.
It was one of Liz’s favourite things - watching the seasons burst of colour when fall settled over New Hampshire, a bonus to having given up superheroing. Liz Carson had enjoyed being a superhero - the adventure of it all, challenging ones strength, wit, and resolve against another person. That life had been enthralling: but - she realized she loved teaching more.
Most days anyway, since becoming the headmistress her joy of teaching had morphed into becoming an administrator, her younger self would be laughing silly at the irony of the kid who thought rules were for schnooks - to see her now as the one keeping the rules - living by the book, being the old fuddy-duddy that spouted regulation like scripture. But times and life change and people need to adapt to cope with change … just like moving from one season to the next.
Tuesday morning so far had been a touch worse than most, the briefing meetings had set the day’s agenda and she didn’t like the implications. She had called in Miss Nalley in hopes of getting to the bottom of this whole deadly assault problem. It hadn’t gone well - not well at all.
In the earlier briefing she had chosen to be the lead for the deadly assault problem, and let Amelia handle the blackmailing. After speaking with Elaine - attempting to gain the girls confidence, it wound up nearly digressing into a fight, she had only gleaned one piece of information for her effort: Elaine had had bacon for breakfast.
In past encounters Elaine had stood up to Liz, battled with her by quoting rules and regulations, fighting back against the headmistress over every inch. It had pushed Liz in her duty as headmistress to consider the intent of a rule and not just the words used. Those had been the most interesting and challenging battles she had fought since becoming an instructor.
Elizabeth Carson respected the young girl for her courage; she was reminded of a very young and impressionable Miss Champion.
Mrs. Carson simply did not want to admit that she had succumbed to one of the biggest mistakes a teacher can make: giving preferential treatment to a single student. She had discovered something about herself while staring into those lifeless eyes: Elaine Nalley was very special to her, she had maternal feelings - and she would do anything to protect the girl. She had realized at that moment she couldn’t focus on the murder charge when she was more worried about the bond to a spirit.
Liz had been livid when Kayda bonded Elaine with the spirit Grizzly, she wasn’t even an Avatar so it shouldn’t have even been possible - but dealing with the kids at Whateley; the impossible was an everyday occurrence … still, it was a decision Liz didn’t agree with. And the consequences had started to become manifest now - after their encounter in her office.
Liz rang up Amelia and asked if she could to join her in the office.
“How did speaking with Elaine go?” asked the headmistress’s assistant.
“Worse than I’d ever have imagined. I should have listened to Frank at the meeting: I’m too attached - I can’t be objective. Would you be alright if we switched problems? I’ll deal with ‘Wrought’ and you handle ‘Outlook’.”
“Sure Liz, I understand.”
“Thanks Amelia … and please - whatever you do: try to keep Elaine out of jail.”
“You know I will.”
“I’ve notified Marissa Walcut already: she has the briefing notes, I was going to meet with her over at Kane Hall.” instructed Elizabeth.
Kane Hall
Amelia Hartford and Marissa Walcut exchanged greetings in Kane Halls reception area, they chatted briefly about the task at hand, ‘Outlook’ was just finishing up in a meeting with Mrs Donner.
The huge figure of Ben walked out of the Security offices towards them and notified them “They are ready for you now. Eloise wishes to remain with the boy.”
As the two Whateley representatives entered the room and took seats across the table from the boy, it was Dr. Hartford who made the introductions “Mrs. Donner - Mr. Burke, This is Mrs. Walcut: Whateley Academy’s legal counsel.”
“Doctor, Mrs. Walcut. Do you object to having Outlook’s guardians attending this meeting remotely?”
After a brief consultation Dr. Hartford replied “We are willing to oblige him by having legal guardians present.”
It took a short while to make the connection to bring Mike Williamson in via a computer link, when his picture came up on the projected screen he was seated at a table and was joined by Karen.
“Hello, I’m Micheal Williamson: Cameron Burke’s legal guardian, on my left is Karen Mitchell; my associate and Cameron’s friend and confidant. Thank you for letting us join this meeting.”
“Allow me to introduce our end: I am Doctor Amelia Hartford: Whateley Academy’s Assistant Headmistress, this is Mrs. Marissa Walcut: Whateley’s legal counsel, and lastly Chief Eloise Donner of the Mediwihla people.”
Mike asked the question “Mrs. Donner, what role do you have in this affair?”
“This school is located on tribal lands, ours is the first level of external government at Whateley.”
“Thank you, I believe we understand the implication.” Responded Mike “Cameron, good to see you.”
“Nice to hear your voice. Hi Karen” Piped in the youth while adding a wave.
“How are you doing Cameron ?” Asked Karen trying to asses his appearance over the link.
“The shock is finally wearing off, and I’m feeling okay for the most part.” Smiled the boy.
“Good! How are they treating you?” Questioned Karen
“I think the wheels fell off the welcome wagon.” Commented Cameron
“That’s a rather uncomplimentary criticism!” complained Marissa Walcut.
“That is coming from someone who just lived in a bomb shelter for the last two and a half months without complaint … I’d say he’s being generous.” Asserted Mike
“Whateley has very nice accommodations. My daughter has a splendid room and the Cafeteria is second to none.” Chastised Marissa
“Cameron: where have you been staying since arriving? Asked Mike
“Well … my first room was the morgue, and last night was a jail cell.” confessed Cameron with a shrug.
“Mrs Walcut: is that your idea of ‘nice accommodations’?” The lady made a huff of displeasure but before she could refute - Mike redirected “Cameron, how would you rate the food?”
“I can’t say: I’ve not been given me anything to eat.” Was released as an answer.
Mike glared at the Whateley delegates over the video screen “Imagine how this makes me feel! Learning about the outstanding level of care being provided my ward. Indeed! ’Second to none’ is the most honest thing I’ve heard any of you say yet!” Mike said with near hatred in his voice “Even so - I don’t believe my concerns have anything to do with the reason behind this meeting! Am I right?”
Without even acknowledging Mike’s statement, Mrs Hartford supplied “Whateley would like Cameron to drop all charges in consideration that Whateley Academy is situated upon neutral territory and so is outside legal recourse.” Her tone reflecting superiority and an air of self-righteousness.
Karen leap at Amelia’s throat by jabbing with “Please reiterate your statement: You want Staff Sergeant Burke to drop criminal charges against you.”
It was obvious Karen had just narrowly beaten Eloise to commenting, but she spoke next by clearly stating “I must object to your ascertain since you are very much mistaken” looking Amelia in the eye “Whateley is not neutral territory! It has protection due to being situated upon tribal land - that relationship makes it exempt from many laws. However; an assault was made against one of the Mediwihla people, on Mediwihla lands. Mediwihla law must be observed and the situation demands justice!” Counselled Mrs. Donner
Mike stepped up and reminded everyone “Lets not forget the implications stemming from a foreign dignitary being assaulted: I doubt your school is claiming independence as a nation. US federal agencies are likely going to have something to say about what laws apply, one phone call will undoubtedly have them lining up to beat down your door. Are you prepared for the inevitable involvement of politicians?” Summed up Mike, sizing up Whateley’s resolve.
Cameron was restless sitting in his chair, he sensed where this discussion was heading. That outcome was not what Cameron wanted; arguments getting heated, the entrenching of sides preparing for war, battle lines being drawn. He saw his opportunity to attend this school slipping away by the second.
Cameron stood and positioned his hands to form a ’T’ and showed it to everyone - the room quietened as the combatants relented to allow the boy to interrupt, once attention was focused upon him he returned to his seat.
“First up: I don’t want to be the spark that ignites a war. Goodness knows this could flare up to involve nations - perhaps even armies - read history people: world wars began over less.”
“Secondly: I was killed - no: ifs, ands, or buts about it. Somebody decided I didn’t deserve to keep living, obviously that claim was denied … cause here I am.” Cameron looked around at the assembled people before continuing.
“Asking me to ‘forgive’ being killed is neither fair or just. Besides - I don’t think my forgiveness is what matters, better ask the one who brought me back how they feel about it. And just so you know I’m looking at it this way: Because I’m alive - that kinda says they might just be ticked!” He let that thought soak in for a second.
“However: I am willing to consider waiting pursuit of my attacker: until … say ... such a time as Whateley is no longer in the equation, perhaps after my gradation.” Everyone in attendance caught their breath and had looks of surprise.
“Thirdly: Whateley cannot function if under direct outside control - that is if I understand this schools charter correctly. If any single authority has too much leverage the whole structure will topple. As I see it: balance is needed or else a lot of kids are going to lose their best hope in life. Am I wrong in my assessment?” Low voices admitted assent.
“That balance has gone awry and needs correcting: I propose all relevant security and medical documentation about me, the attack upon myself, and the identity of my assailant be placed into a sealed container. That container be given to the Mediwihla tribe for safe keeping - until such time as I finish at Whateley Academy, thereby upholding the internal integrity and external neutrality needed for balance to continue.”
“Fourth: I am very much concerned about my safety here … for obvious reasons. For my suggestions to work - we need to agree upon a measures that guarantees no more attacks while I’m at Whateley. Otherwise; failure of that commitment will have the sealed files getting released. I imagine the Mediwihla people would be best suited in fulfilling such a role.”
“Fifth: Since my status as a police office jeopardizes this schools charter: I am willing to not perform any policing duties while in attendance here, and I shall remain completely separate - unless my assistance is sought by this school.
I am however, also here in service as an emissary of Canada to be an observer, I see no obstacle in fulfilling that role and shall carry it out to the best of my abilities.”
The tone of the meeting changed drastically after Cameron stated his expectations and concessions, each party discussed the merits of the different proposals and how these could be implemented, as would be expected whenever lawyers are involved there was jockeying for position. But by meetings end they had establishing a clear understanding and had an agreement all parties could live with.
An addendum from the Medawihla which Eloise Donner had insisted upon was unexpected. While she was mostly satisfied with the tribes inclusion in the agreement, she added a few points:
The Whateley contingent and Mrs. Donner left together to get containment for the documents sorted out, leaving Cameron in the meeting room with it still connected to Mike and Karen.
“Cameron, you did alright today, but we could have squeezed more out of them if you hadn’t stated what your desired outcome was.”
“Mike, I’m certain you could have bled them dry, but for me - the important thing is: I’m where I need to be. So letting them come away with feeling like they won some ground will make my time here better in the long run.”
“It means that much to you?”
“In this instance I think my Dad’s advice that ‘to have a friend you need to be a friend’ is well worth whatever concessions we might have gained.”
“Are you okay with what the Mediwihla wanted?”
“They’re good people, I'm intrigued and looking forward to meeting more of them. I could have kissed Eloise when she said I didn’t have to undergo more testing.”
“That certainly was a surprise! Glad you managed to contain yourself. Is working with Doctors really all that bad?”
“I don’t hate Doctors, I just don’t like being the object of examination. I like my privacy, being scrutinized and dissected feels like a violation.”
“But there is so much that isn’t understood about you?”
“Would you prefer to be told you’d only ever amount to becoming mediocre lawyer - or, find out on your own just how good you really could be?”
“Skys the limit if you believe in yourself.”
“Are you going to be okay with getting the RCMP and Foreign Affairs to put my attack on ice?”
“I have a couple angles that should satisfy them, and - it does let you stay at Whateley to complete your report.”
Cameron had made his goodbyes then picked up his pack and moved out to take a seat in Kane Halls reception / waiting area, Mrs Hartford had said would need some time before she could be available to help with Cameron’s registration. The officer manning the desk suggested to the boy that he could head over to Schuster Hall to wait there, he arranged for the patrol just leaving Kane to take him to the office, and once there his impromptu guards even waited until he’d signed into the day’s logbook - as directed by Mrs Claire; who then pointed Cameron back to his old friend ‘the bench’. After he took a seat, he noticed sitting at the opposite end of the bench was the same student who had been his next-door neighbour last night in jail. The two nodded in greeting.
After a short while and multiple checks ensuring that the coast was clear, his bench mate slipped out of the handcuffs that had bound him and whispered at Cameron “I’m outta here … you coming?”
“I’ll stick around.”
“Suit yourself.” He then quietly stole away and exited the building at a run.
Elaine Claire was handling the office alone this morning, Amelia Hartford had booked out saying she had to take care of something important with Mrs Donner. So far it had been a busy morning with high level meetings necessitating staff coming and going.
It turned out that the number of the blackmailed families ‘Wrought’ had been extorting money from reached all the way back to his freshman year, Whateley had received numerous complaints over that time and Elizabeth Carson had tasked Sam Everhart to find the culprit.
Sam had been resourceful by enlisting help from the mystic arts faculty, it was know that all the ‘pidgeons’ had been Melville residents - but Security could never pin down who was responsible until Sam formulated a plan.
At the start of the new year school year Sam constructed a prime candidate for blackmail - a mutant kid who’s rich family didn’t want exposure, after arranging fake ID and having spells cast that would make each person see different information - along with the new students illusion power, she could track who saw what.
So it was, when a few weeks into the school year - one of the false contacts got ‘the call’. Sam arrested Ronald Lundquist: aka ‘Wrought”, and conducted interrogations and further investigations to reveal his outside cohorts.
The Security report provided to Liz during the mornings second briefing, had detailed the ensnarement trap. From the information gleaned Wrought / Ronald Lundquist was being manipulated externally to supply details on families who could be extorted. The revealing information about Ronald was disturbing as Mrs. Carson weighted how this could be dealt with: It was the worst crime possible at Whateley - the school was entrusted with these children's lives and the parents faith. Whateley’s reputation was at stake.
Mr. Lundquist was in his senior year, he had completed most of the curriculum and with just a few more classes could graduate … It was a coin toss - let him stay / throw him out. Liz hated being in the position of choosing this boys future.
The Headmistress stewed over how best to handle this problem, if Ronald was not part of the scam - if he was being forced or coerced into it: he deserved a second chance. It all depended on him - how he’d react; no matter how bad the act, she simple couldn’t just give up on any of her students, no matter how deserving they might be of the full fury of her wrath.
She needed to calm herself and keep a handle on her emotions.
Using the intercom, Elisabeth called up front “Claire. Security escorted a student to us, would you show him into my office”.
“Yes, Mrs. Carson.”
Mrs. Claire looked out toward the bench and saw waiting there a lone youth “Mrs. Carson will see you now.”
Cameron gave the lady a “Thank You” as he walked past and moved toward the door stencilled ‘Headmistress Carson’, entering into the impressive office Cameron noted the large desk and the woman sitting behind it, she radiated a huge energy signature obvious to Cameron even though she sat with her back turned to him – her hands clasped tightly and held at her chin as she looked out the window.
“Good Morning Mrs. Carson, I was told you wanted to see me,” spoke Cameron with an uncertain voice to the seated woman - she remained facing the window without movement, with no acknowledge him, she just kept looking out the window - but her energy was boiling.
“Don’t bother sitting Ronnie!” Elisabeth used a name which Hive’s report said Wrought hated – doing so specifically to try and get under his skin, evoke a reaction and shake the student up, to see if redemption was possible.
Cameron gasped audibly, the only person who had ever called him that was James her little brother; and only when being an annoyng pest. Getting hit with such a painful memory from his past hurt Cameron so he let slip a groan, a strip was torn from his heart.
Elisabeth smiled ever so slightly: there was hope for him. Still keeping her back turned for fear she would lose control of the situation; if she looked him in the eye. “So! Do I toss you out to the wolfs? See if the MCO or maybe FBI would be interested in you?” It was a leveraged attack - laying out the consequences, see what he’d shoot for.
Fear shot through Cameron's every fibre due to the magnitude of the threat to his life. Cameron responded ever so quietly “No”
“If you’re going to stay at Whateley - you’re not going to be very popular, rumours will spread, some will outright hate you. Are you prepared to handle that?”
“I’m willing to try” spoke Cameron, his mind racing at the implications.
The scary lady behind the desk hhmmed for a second “I’m assigning you detention: Report to Mr. Duncan at Maintenance, everyday after classes – and weekends. How long you’ll stay on detention Ronnie will depend entirely upon you! Check in at Kane Hall every morning with the duty desk. Now go!”
Cameron shook as it took a moment to force his feet to move but made his way to the door, stopping a short distance from the exit door with his hand on the knob “Ma’am, perhaps there’s been some mistake, could you maybe …”
“Don’t push it Ronnie! If you so much as show your face at this office again until you have a high school diploma in your hand, so help me I’ll hand you over to the MCO myself.”
Cameron closed the door behind himself, and didn’t so much leave Schuster Hall as fled once he’d collected his detention slip. Cameron ran trying to distance himself from the display of anger he’d just been the brunt of. A copse of trees gave the first indication of shelter and he ducked down into the low growth to try and collect his wits.
He stayed hidden, seeking a way to grasp what had just happened: they had come to a workable solution… what happened? He replayed the conversation a dozen times from off his SI phone to make sure he really understood all that had been said.
Mrs. Carson was notified that Security was on a line for her “Headmistress’s office” she said into the receiver
“Mrs. Carson. Arthur at the front gate calling, you wanted to be notified if Ronald Lundquist left Whateley, he has departed ma’am”.
“Thank you Arthur,” Elisabeth slowly returned the phone to its cradle “Damn! I actually thought he’d stay”. Her next calls went to the Dunwich Sherriff and then to Berlin MCO notifying them of a runaway and his recent activities.
Cameron eventually pieced himself together, maybe he was allergic to these trees because he’d had to wipe away tears more than once. If not for the assignment he’d been given he would have gladly taken up the offer to get out of here, but he was resolute that he would do the best he could under whatever circumstances - his Dad didn’t raise a quitter and his Mom would always press ahead despite difficulties. He wasn’t going to let them down now.
Having sizing up the situation he’d come up with a solution: he could continue distance learning - surely this place had a library and those almost always had internet, he had being doing well with the online courses … it might take 6 months but he could graduate - then he could sign up for some of the courses that had caught his attention off the Whateley registration brochure.
He’d noticed the school uniform worn by the students; taking a suit out from cupboard he made alterations to it as a facsimile of an ‘official’ uniform and donned the clothes to be less conspicuous.
He then began a self guided tour of the school grounds to become familiar with it’s layout. He easily found Liard Hall: the schools Library, and convinced the lady behind the desk to let him do correspondence course at the library - and asked if he could have the wifi password, the librarian wanted to know why he wasn’t using a school issued computer - he said his laptop was specially designed for his sight problems.
After signing up to continue his online education, Cameron continued exploring and found the maintenance compound he was to report to. At the schools centre sat a large domed building that it was attached to the schools office but Cameron felt confident enough to enter.
Crystal Hall was impressive, it was an open expanse with seating levels, stairs, escalators ,and elevators emptying everyone to the main floor which had huge serving tables that were set up buffet style. Tables spread out like a fan from the buffet and as a focus the room had a waterfall. Each raised level could look out over the bottom floor, it reminded Cameron of a grand theatre.
Much noise was coming from the kitchen, with no doubt preparations underway for tonights meal, Cameron noticed some sandwiches still at the table so grabbing a tray put one onto it and a glass of orange juice, stepping up to what must be the cashier he disturbed the lady with a polite ‘ahem’ and handed her his credit card.
“Sorry dear, we don’t use money - I just need to swipe your student card.”
Patting his pockets Cameron shrugged saying: “Guess I forgot it.”
“We can't let you eat without it, so hurry and get it.”
“Yes Mum.” Cameron returned the items to the displays and left the hall. Sitting on a bench just outside he sat and did an internal inventory of Storage, he estimated enough food for a couple months anyways - but some basic’s like milk he’d run out of fast. Loud banging drew his attention and looking behind the building he smiled: a garbage truck was emptying bins.
He approached the truck and waved to the driver, after introducing himself the boy asked Mr Cooper "How often do you have to come to Whateley to empty these?”
“Three times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays - unless there’s a holiday then the schedule gets adjusted.”
“I’d like to make you a proposition.”
“I can’t smuggle contraband for you kid.”
“Would you consider milk and some dairy products as contraband?”
“What ? Don’t the feed you here.”
“Afraid not. I could pay you - or provide a service you might find useful.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can ensure these bins are empty - all the time. You would only need to come and make it look like you’re doing a pick-up. Interested?”
“I’ve got two bins to collect yet - show me how you’d empty em.”
Climbing into the trucks jump-seat Cameron went with him to his next stop on campus and demonstrated how he dematerializes matter, then explained that he used the raw materials later.”
“You the kid Albert was on about - fixed a water leak?”
“Yeah, that was me: Downtown Dunwich in-front of Cecilia’s.”
“Then I’d say we have a deal - a little milk and dairy: nothing illegal … right!”
“Deal.”
Deciding to halt his exploration, Cameron found an empty study alcove at the Library and claimed it, setting up his laptop. The Librarian: Miss Henderson, stopped by to check up him and adjusting the computers display to show her the Ministry of Educations distance learning site: explaining that he needed to take Canadian History.
Reviewing where he was with his current courses: he still had a couple subjects in grade Nine to finish, but had already taken some grade Ten courses.
Reflecting back on something Buck had said which had stuck with Cameron: ‘Fortune favours the bold’. The battered but not beaten boy dug into his studies, the system didn’t have him cornered yet.
The relative tranquility offered in the library was broken when classes let out, students came in to make use of the resources available, the influx told Cameron it was time to head off to his detention assignment at Maintenance. He managed to locate Mr. Duncan who sent him to join Stan and Morie in the maintenance shop: the two men had been providing instruction to a small crew into which Cameron was added.
Checking over his fellow workers Outlook noticed that one of them was only an assemblage of animated metal bones: including some chains, a toolbox, a bear trap and other nasty bits making up the form of a person. Outlook was introduced to Shroud.
Stan and More apportioned duties to the teams they’d made, Cameron and Shroud would be working together and since she knew how to do the day’s tasks, she was assigned as the twosomes foreman. Collecting the tools needed they proceeded into the labyrinth that comprised Whateley’s underground tunnels to access the sewer system.
The first few passageways had lighting, but soon they transitioned into dark tunnels.
“I don’t really need light to be able to see down here” informed Shroud speaking through a small voice box disc “I noticed you didn’t grab a flashlight.”
“Don’t need one, I have my own light” responded Cameron as he removed his visor, the uncovered light was enough to illuminate the confined space.
“I see what you mean that it’s handy for finding your way in the dark”
“If it’s reveal our secret time; Generator. How do you impart your life-force into objects?”
“What? What are you talking about? I’m Jade’s dead sister Jinn.”
“You’ve got a good cover story going, but sorry” intoned Cameron as he tapped his temple “energy can’t lie. You match your ‘sisters’ energy signature exactly, just like ‘Kitty Compact’ did.”
“You knew? Back at Doyle - you knew!”
“I only suspected. I couldn't find the tether when you showed me … a free roaming surveillance and attack platform” discerned Cameron “Can you communicate directly with your main body when separated or do you need to re-join to share information?”
“no, no, No. you can’t! You'll ruin everything. If people find out …”
“Thing of it is: I’m good at keeping secrets” assured Cameron “What’s said; stays between us, these walls” then pointing to a recess “and that rat - they’ll have to figure out a way to make it talk before I’ll say anything.”
“Pinky swear?”
“I’m not altogether certain you presently have a pinky, but I swear it”.
“So, what’s this tether you mentioned?”
“You’re spreading yourself around, but need to reconnect … since we’ve been together your signature has been slightly decreasing, maybe a separation of say 6 hours? If you exert yourself does it shorten the time?”
“Not that we’ve noticed.”
“But each time you divide, what’s separated returns so you must know where ‘you’ are at - must be some kind of link … how far apart have you been?”
“I went to Colorado once, and returned from there.”
“That’s a stretch! How many of ‘you’ can there be?”
“I’m up to six now, my friends call me J-team.”
“J-Team?”
“Each individual has a name starting with J.”
“Oye, that’s got to be confusing.”
“You’re catching on.”
“So Jinn, are you J-One?”
“It’ll do. Now, what’s your story? Really!”
“My eyes can see multiple ways: Temperature, x-ray, telescopic, microscopic for example.”
“That’s why you could see through me?”
“It is. So far everyone I’ve met has a distinct energy signature: it’s like what they say about fingerprints and snowflakes.”
“So, do you know what a person can do - from their energy signature?”
“I’m starting to be able to identify groups of powers, but there’s so much variety; I figure Crystal Hall will be like being in a candy store.”
“Anything else - holdouts?”
“Yes. I manipulate matter.”
“Like a manifestor?”
“No. I have to use existing materials to be able to repair or reshape stuff.”
“That’s cool! Can you show me?”
“No problem, see that crack in the wall: watch!”
Jinn moved closer to get a better look at the wall that went fuzzy as the manipulation effect moved up repairing the cracked concrete.
“That’s like so cool … can you do that to everything?”
“Pretty near, depends if I have that material stored to work with.”
“Where do you keep it?”
“I’ve got it tucked away in a safe place.”
“Then … we could maybe fix a lot of the problems down here instead of needing to come back every couple days.”
“Don’t know till we try … you first - oh leader of mice and men – lets see about losing that rat though; eeewww.” was said with a shudder.
The two walked a little further down the tunnel before Jinn stopped in front of a heavy steel door that showed many years on its rusted surface. Taking a moment of time, Cameron did a restoration on the door, then Jinn worked the opening mechanism, it moved with ease letting the teens enter. The assigned task was clearing a blockage, thankfully being able to prevent odours from entering his nose meant Cameron could ignore the smell, otherwise he might have been overcome by the stink.
“Someone has to come and do this every few days” informed Jinn.
Looking up and down the old brick pipeline, Cameron noticed the issue, a dip in the alignment. Walking between the access points Cameron corrected the sag after which it allowed for a free flow, in the process Cameron lined the surface with plastic which was an upgrade from the ancient worn brick. Since their work went quickly, Jinn had them restore two more lengths of the dilapidated and deteriorating system before Stan and Morie expected them back at the shop.
Walking the tunnels on their return Jinn started to recount how some of the original tunnels might have dated back to the civil war era and could have been used by the underground railroad.
“They had trains go through these?”
“No … are you topid or sumtin. It was how slaves escaped.’ She explained then went onto “Must be all the cold up north - froze your brain.”
“Sorry: Canadian, remember. We have a different history than you. And just so you know: snowdrifts and tundra don’t start once you cross the border.”
“Ohh really Mr. Smarty-pants; then why is Canada white on the map?”
“It might have something to do with being a separate Country.”
“Sure - sure. If your oh-so-different from the US: name a Canadian food.”
“Poutine.”
“We’ve got all sorts of breakfast cereals, there’s a whole table full of them at Crystal Hall. Mind you I’ll be sticking with Fruit Loops! I tried some of that other stuff and man … drano for your soul or what.”
“Uggh, No! Poutine is fries with cheese curds and gravy, not … whatever you - just no.”
“Never heard of it, next!”
“Back bacon.”
“You can always go back for more bacon. Billie does it all the time.”
“No… it’s. nevermind. Listen: can we drop this for now? I’m getting a headache”
“It’s the fumes; happens every time. You wouldn’t believe how often people get headaches while working down here with me.”
“Must be it.”
A short while later the two had returned to the maintenance shop, Cameron found it to be a huge relief to be using the shops shower: he could wash himself but the whole idea of having been in that muck … it warranted a long hot shower to honestly feel clean again.
Jinn was still cleaning up their gear when Cameron exited the washroom calling over to the boy “Almost done.”
“I can finish up if you need to get clean.”
“A shower isn’t exactly the best thing for me … rust don’t you know. I get a buffing back at my room.”
”I could help - with your permission.”
“Are we talking a make-over?”
“How’s about a deep cleaning?”
“Yeah, please! Billie complains when I waltz in after being knee deep in it.”
Cameron commenced rejuvenating the metal that made-up Shroud’s frame “Billy? You’re in a co-ed dorm?”
“She’s my roommate, but yes; Poe is co-ed.”
“All done, rusts gone and I lubed your joints - you creaked. Are we finished for tonight?”
“Yup-ers, now its time for chow. See you at Crystal Hall ?”
“I’ll drop by if I see you.”
Using the sign out punch clock as instructed, Cameron left Maintenance and followed at a distance the stream of students heading towards the large domed building. Crystal Hall was an overwhelming array of energy signatures at meal time, steadying himself Cameron bypassed the buffet line and hunted up a place to sit amidst the throng.
He found a table on the main floor removed from the crowd, sitting down he decided a bowl of soup would be a good starter, he’d hardly taken a couple spoonful’s when two of the more colourful students approached and stood staring down at him, the bigger one who looked like a dinosaur from a movie she’d never been allowed to watch, put his food tray down and started making gestures ending with a load shriek.
“Razorback here wants to know if your white or dark meat?” said the shorter, stocky looking boy with patterns in his clothing that made Cameron dizzy.
“I suspect I taste just like chicken, but it doesn’t mean I am one.”
Dino-boy made a snort and stocky had a smile, then; after some more signing “He says your too scrawny to even make a decent appetizer, we should throw you back until you’ve gotten some meat on you”.
“Your table I suppose?”
“Yup: Outcast Corner.”
“Not to worry, all yours. Thanks for the respite.” Said Cameron as he picked up his food and moved on.
Searching around Cameron found an isolated tabled on the second tier with only two seats and since it was tucked into a far corner behind a support pillar no one was using it. It looked to be unused since it was so well hidden away, but for Cameron it afforded an excellent view - for people watching.
From Storage came a nice steak with veggies and some rye bread, digging in - it was a most refreshing meal and since he’d not been intruded upon for having claimed someone else’s territory, Cameron discretely etched ‘Outlook’ into the tabletop to stake claim to this perch.
The activity in Crystal hall was riveting: the energy signatures pulsing and shimmering, a spectacular dance amid the noise and laughter. Cameron was able to single out Generator … the one Generator and the currently two divided up J-Team members, J-Central was in the company of a truly remarkable energy signature, Cameron hadn’t seen anything like it before: except maybe at a fireworks display where he had been given a lit stick that gave off sparkles, this signature had sparks flying out that fizzled off.
Generator and her friends gathered food and sat a table nearby, but when Cameron was heading to the escalator Shroud came up and offered to introduce her friends, stepping up beside the table it began:
“Gang. This is Outlook my fellow sewer rat” working around the table she made introductions.
“This is ‘Lancer’, or Hank; only his code name is pretentious.” Which got an annoyed look from the young brick to … well at first to Generator but then to Jinn.
“Toni, also called ‘Chaka’” pointed his hostess.
“Sup?” was offered by what could only be described as ‘wired’ girl.
“My sister Jade, aka ‘Generator’” who nodded.
“We’ve met, I see you still have that situational awareness thing happening” commented Cameron which drew a smile from J-Central.
“And our roommate Billie.”
Billie stood and … well - okay, standing isn’t quiet right: rose? When at no times is anything affixed to the floor can it be said that a person is standing? How about: oriented herself to mimic a standing posture. Anyway, Billie offered her hand and she and Cameron shook. Billie assumed a puzzled expression and quietly returned to sitting but kept watching the newcomer.
Toni piped up “What’s with the shades? You too cool for school?
Taking off the visor thereby letting the table see his eyes “Naw, it’s your dazzling personality – I need something to dampen the impact” he said.
“At least someone appreciates all that is ‘the Chaka’” recovered Toni.
“When did you start speaking in the third person” razzed Hank.
“Had to happen! There’s just too much of a good thing going on right here” was emphasized by Toni running her hands down her sides exaggerating her curves.
“Or maybe too little going on up here” being added by Jade rapping her knuckles against Toni’s head.
“Hey, hands off ‘The Chaka’”.
Shroud gave Outlook a nudge saying: “See what you started.”
“My bad, many pardons” offered Cameron.
“Our teammates are running late, take a seat” offered Hank.
“I’ve already had dinner, but here” pulling it out from Storage he set a heaping plate onto the table “Shroud wouldn’t believe me.”
“What is it?” asked ‘The Chaka’.
Shroud spoke up “He called it Pooh-teen, I have my doubts.”
“What’s not to like?” said Toni after a mouthful, which encouraged the rest to sample it and express enjoyment.
“Think Ayla would like it?” asked Jade having taken a few mouthfuls.
“Probably not high brow enough for his tastes, if it doesn’t have snails or a totally unpronounceable name - he can be so uncultured!” supplied Toni.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you all, I’ll leave you to your dinner” remarked Cameron with a smile and left the table.
Jade had noticed Billie’s unusual behaviour but had waited to comment on it “What’s up Billie, cat got your tongue?”
“Did anybody else feel the earth move?” was the response from the stunned expressionless girl.
Her ‘Team Kimba’ table-mates exchanged curious glances trying to gauge the comment just made, it burst when Toni fell out of her chair unable to withhold the “Bahwah, hah, ha” joined by Hank bending down to hide his face as his body bounced from laughter. Shroud covered her voice-box which didn’t mask the wheezing laugh coming from it. It was the smiling face of Jade that asked “Billie, you okay?”
Having left Crystal Hall, Cameron stood outside looking around trying to decide his next move, concluding he needed to stay inconspicuous he headed towards the lake he had spotted earlier - there was a heavily wooded area along the shore that would serve his purpose.
The evenings darkness had descended but Cameron was able to find a small natural clearing; he brought forth from Warehouse the prospectors tent he had purchased along with a sturdy cot and sleeping bag. His camping chair was really comfortable and after sitting down Cameron commenced making the phone call that had waited too long.
Ring Ring
Lynn was busy with something in her bedroom upstairs when the phones first set of rings beckoned. She was out her door and moving fast careening down the hallway bouncing off walls to help make course corrections. She called out a repeating broadcast of “I got it, I got it, I got it” as she rounded the top of the staircase and chased down them jumping two at a time, thumping like a wild elephant.
Ring Ring
Lynn’s long black hair was wild streamers behind her as she flew downstairs, deciding to jump the last four steps she landed into a crouch then sprinted across the remaining distance into the kitchen, the smooth flooring had her skid past the countertops corner almost bowling into her mother, but she grabbed onto the counter and used it to right her course dragging herself back to round the cabinetry and turn the final leg.
Ring Ring
Lynn hopped up onto the breakfast nook stool and quickly ran a hand past her ear to clear any loose hair as she picked up the receiver.
“Franklin Residence”
“What? No: Joe’s Pool Hall - who in the hall do you want?”
“Oh! Hi Cameron.”
“Your slipping, you always seem to know when I’m calling.”
“Can’t be right all the time.”
“I’m beginning to wonder about that.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Now… let me see: I had a most enlightening day today. Did you know that Were’s mark their mates with scents?”
“I might have heard something about that … from somewhere. Why?”
“Well; surprise - surprise! It turns out my girlfriend decided to jump the gun by a couple steps and mark me.”
“REALLY! I’m your girlfriend! ”
“Umm, Lynn: you might be missing the point here.”
“Wait till I tell Mom, she’s not going to believe this” Cameron could hear Lynn speaking in the background “Mom! It’s Cameron - he’s okay! And I’m his girlfriend!” Cameron at this point felt the stirrings of another headache.
“So … how’s it going ?” Asked Lynn coming back onto the phone
“Just peachy … never better. You?”
“I’ve been really nervous lately - I mean … I knew you’d be going through alot of stuff, and I was hoping you’d get through it okay and all, but you must have - cause you called.
“Yes - I’m okay. Whatever my expectations of Whateley had been, it’s not what I had hoped for, so far anyway.”
“ And you couldn’t have called sooner?”
“Sorry, but we really do need to talk about your marking me: We can’t be married!”
“I should think not: I’m too young for marriage. Dad said I couldn’t even think about it till I’m 18”
“And I’m nowhere close to being ready to commit to a relationship.”
“Exactly my point.”
“Okay, we’re in agreement. So why are the Were’s here saying I’m marked and it means we’re married.”
“Ohh! That’s simple: I marked you.”
“Lynn ... I need to ask: do you even know what todays date is?”
“Is it Thursday?”
“Maybe for you … but I’m still back on Tuesday” he answered but muttered as an aside “let alone what month.”
“Are those time zones too tough to figure out ?”
“No! Keeping up with a ‘Precog’ is whats tough, could you maybe back things up a little and do some explaining?”
“About marking you?”
“That would be nice, yes”
“Well: it’s like this. When I became a girl is also when the precognition kicked in, it was so overwhelming! All I ever saw was darkness and despair, then one day I saw a touch of light and well: it was you. Despite all the hurt and pain you were going through - you stayed a bright spot. When we met I was so happy - and you were this kind, generous, humble person and I was drawn to you … cause … I like you.”
“Lynn: I like you too” Cameron had to pause with the squeeing coming from the other end “But isn’t marking a huge step ?”
“You were going to a school full of hot exemplar chicks, I had to do something to protect you.”
“But we talked about that! I’m not anywhere close to being ready to date.”
“I know, but I … couldn’t risk it.”
“But you’re willing to risk people thinking we’re married?”
“Did anyone explain what it means for a Were to mark someone?”
“Only what it signifies.”
“Most Were don’t mark anymore, it allows a female Were to increase the tribes population by having multiple partners. Because a Were who commits to marking is bonded - for life, she has chosen her life-mate.”
“But Lynn. You didn’t even know if I would accept you.”
“As I said ‘I took a risk’ - I had too. Please don’t be mad.”
“Mad: no, not truly mad. Upset and confused yes! Why did you have to ‘risk’ it?”
“Did you ever hear the Were legend about ‘The Panther and the Golden Eyed Man’?”
End Part 2
It's a Matter of Death and Life: part three
Bv Camospam, editing by WendyK
Sequel to: A Matter of Fact
Cameron opened his eyes and took in the early morning light, the suns first rays streamed through tall windows basking the room in brilliant colours. Outside the windows stood trees whose trunks framed a rugged mountain with snow dappled slopes leading to a sharp peak.
Still with his head resting on the pillow he saw a white dress haphazardly strewn across a chair while another chair had a red uniform neatly folded upon it. A lithe arm was draped over his ribs with its hand intertwined with his own, the ring on the dainty finger caught the sunbeams the reflected light twinkled like stars on the ceiling.
He felt himself being pulled into a gentle squeeze and the delightful press of lips on his neck: “Good morning love” was whispered into his ear like a caress.
“Good morning Mrs. Burke” he whispered in response while pressing the intertwined hands against his heart.
Cameron opened his eyes and took in the small space his tent occupied, everything was damp from last nights rain and the air held a chill - a sure sign of autumn’s progression. The sun was not up yet which helped confirm it hadn’t been real, so he lay back into his cot pulling the sleeping bag close and began to deconstruct the vivid dream.
Saturday September 27, 2007, Whateley Academy
Arriving at Maintenance a few minutes early, he’d greeted the students who worked paying into their tuition, but stood over with the rest of the detentionees awaiting the days punishment.
So far, each shift had been the same story: down into the sewers under Jinn’s direction - clear some nastiness and make repairs. According to Jinn they’d fixed some of the worst sewer problems.
Cameron wasn’t under any delusion, detention was not intended to be fun or interesting - but working with J-Team was at least always entertaining. He hadn’t thought it possible but actually hoped he’d be assigned more of the same tasks: unpleasant as it was.
The day’s crew was divided up and as anticipated Jinn and Cameron were teamed up, along with another kid named Dump Truck who had earned himself some detention. Dump Truck was big and liked to throw his weight around, Cameron had seen enough of his type to peg him as a bully - getting some comeuppance.
Dump Truck was in the dumps when he found out his task, and was less than pleased to have to work under Shroud’s supervision. At least he had the smarts to not verbally complain - body language was another thing.
The trio got their equipment and waders together and the they began the descent into Whateley’s bowels, Jinn lead them through the maze of tunnels, past twists and turns that had become confusing a ways back and without much to identify one place from another. After passing bye many access doors they eventually stopped.
Dump Truck sneered at Jinn when she began to explain how to work safely, and identified what risks and dangers being in the sewers entailed, the bully wouldn’t outright challenge the ‘ghost’ but had been making an effort to press Jinn’s buttons, Cameron hoped the goof didn’t start something since the bully likely wouldn’t be able to finish it.
Jinn detailed that the section of pipe they would be working at was some of the oldest sewers at Whateley and in the worst condition. Cameron was sent to start at one end and come towards Jinn and Dump Truck, Cameron understood the hidden message that he was to recondition the sewer as Jinn kept Dump Truck busy and he appreciated the thoughtfulness given to protect his secret.
The sewer pipe was in horrible shape for a long distance, and it took Cameron a lot of effort and materials to restore the surfaces. But being busy meant the morning moved along quickly, but at roughly an hour before noon they could hear a distorted reverberating sound through the underground passageway from a blaring siren.
The three stopped what they were doing and everyone stood still to try and hear better.
A distorted voice was barely heard as it echoed in the confined space as a broadcast was made over the PA system: “Attention - Attention, all students head to muster stations, evacuate all buildings, go to muster stations until given further direction!”
Dump Truck dropped everything except his flashlight and started rushing back to their original entry point.
Jinn called to him: “Hey DT! You’re going the wrong way. Nearest exit is this way.”
The large boy stopped and begrudgingly returned saying: “I knew that.”
Being handed back his tools they all moved towards the access door. Letting Dump Truck take point Jinn walked beside Cameron.
“Can you see what’s happening up top?”
Cameron leaned against the tunnel wall then began a sweep of the area to discern what was happening by cycling his sight, Jinn stayed next to him. Cameron described how students were pouring out of cottages and beginning to amass into groups.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
“I’m seeing lots of heat, looks like an underground fire.”
“No … Bunny! She was working in her lab this morning.”
“They actually let someone use Bunny as a code-name?”
“That’s her real name! Why: what’s wrong with it?”
“I just thought there was some kind of restriction on what you could call yourself.”
“Her code name is Bugs.”
“Bugs - Bunny… and there’s no copyright infringement?”
“Like ‘Outlook’ is going to install fear into anyone” insulted Dump Truck who had stepped closer.
Jinn spun on him “Anyone who decides to name himself after the first thing to drive past them is hardly in a place to criticize code names.”
“Hey! It signifies power and toughness and getting the job done!” defended DT.
“And you probable never considered that people might shorten it to Dumpy?” chided Shroud.
“You wouldn’t!” he reeled back in horror.
Cutting off Jinn, Cameron said: “As scintillating as this is, we better keep moving.” At which they continued their march down the pipe. After a short distance he asked: “Can you point to where Bunny would be?”
“It’s easy to get turned around in the tunnels. But I’d say that way” pointed Jinn to just a little off from the direction they were heading.
Focusing in that direction Cameron did a visual sweep.
Dump Truck's frustration built with the two who had stopped again, hindering his progress. He looked back at them and yelled: “Coming or what?” his voice bouncing off the walls.
“Just give Outlook a minute, he’s trying to find out what’s going on.”
Outlook began a full three-sixty scan. Once finished he looked at Jinn.
“Do you want the good news or bad news?”
“I’ll take the good news - you can keep the bad.”
“Sorry, doesn’t work like that.”
“Be that way! What's the good news then?”
“We are currently safe in the sewers.”
“That doesn’t sound like very good - good news.”
“Your right: at least I tried.”
“So the bad?”
“It’s bad! The area you said Bunny was at, it’s on fire.” He waited for Jade to digest that news before continuing “Everything over there is on fire: areas that look like an auto garage and machine shop look to be the worst.”
“So we should backtrack and get out how we got in.” sounded out the ‘ghost’.
“We can’t. The tunnels have bulkheads that have dropped, It seems they’re designed to prevent the spread of fire for containment. But with them down it means the access tunnels are blocked off.”
“Then we go further back and find a place to get out.” reasoned Jinn.
“Jinn; you could make it. But before we could get to an escape hatch or manhole the pipe diameters will have decreased so that Dump Truck couldn’t fit through, and it would be a real tight squeeze for me too.”
“If we stay here, will we be safe?”
“For a little while maybe, but think about it: they will use water to put the fire out - that water will flow into the sewer … “
“We’re in the sewer, we’ll get flooded!”
“Right. So we need to move quickly to get ahead of that.”
Jinn could fly so she wasn’t restricted by walking in the ankle deep water, Cameron rushed as best as possible, They then explained the situation while on the run to Dump Truck who also seemed to pick up his pace.
The three passed two access doors but didn’t bother with them since the tunnels beyond were sealed, Cameron called out the temperature every so often as they neared the fire, it was no longer cool in the tunnel - the heat from the fire was penetrating into the sewer.
As they came upon the next access door, Cameron needed to catch his breath and Dump Truck too - though he wouldn’t admit he was feeling the heat. Cameron looked around and described what he saw: this access door was between two bulkheads - this was the section of tunnel where the entrance to what Jinn called the Devisor Labs was located.
“Did everyone make it out?” asked a worried Jinn.
After a thorough scan Cameron dejectedly said: “No.”
“How many?” demanded Jinn.
“I found eleven: sealed up in the Lab.”
“We have to help them?” pleaded Jinn.
“No. we don’t!” shouted Dump Truck “It’s every man for himself.”
“They could be your friends.” reasoned Cameron.
“I don’t have friends.” denied DT.
“But they need our help.” Jinn pleaded and tugged on Cameron to come with her.
“Luck of the draw.” smugly retorted ‘Dumpy’.
“I don’t believe in luck,” added Cameron: “We decide our own futures and fates. I’m going to at least try and help them.”
“Count me in.” voiced Jinn.
“I’m staying in here.” confessed DT, displeased with not getting his way.
Cameron had to repair the access door before it would open, once open the hallway was clear with only a little smoke near the ceiling. Between the sewer door and the entrance to the Lab was an emergency locker loaded full of gear. Cameron donned a fireman jacket, face-mask, and helmet, while Jinn grabbed an axe.
The door to the devisor Lab was slightly ajar. By using the axe the two managed to pry it open further and squeeze through. They walked into mayhem.
The Lab was torn asunder. It was apparent that fires had been present - but orange and green goop was dripping off everything. The scorch marks ran up walls and expended fire extinguishers lay scattered around the floor, and a few places looked to have had explosions leaving tables and shelves rendered useless and twisted from the blasts.
Soot lay thick over surfaces held in place by the remaining wet that had coated everything from the now disengaged sprinklers, it blackened the room. The air was breathable but stung Camerons lungs since some smoke still lingered, and it’s hue obscured the lights.
Jinn ran over to the space between the work areas and yelled “Bunny” as loud as her voice box would allow.
From out of one of the lab areas a blonde head showed itself, the face beneath was stained with soot and streaked with tear tracks, the girl stepped into the open shouting in disbelief: “Jinn?”
“Bunny!” shrieked the animated bone sack and ran to her, there was hugs, jumping, and screaming. Amid the scene others stood and they formed a circle around the rejoicing girls.
Cameron recognized a few of the students, but it was the stocky guy that came over to Cameron and asked: “Search and Rescue?”
“Yes and yes.” replied Outlook.
“I’m Jericho, we had some fires break out in here but managed to extinguish them, but we have three in need of medical help.”
“Nice to meet you Jericho, I’m Outlook. Can you cobble together some stretchers for the injured that can’t walk?”
“I’m a devisor, I could ‘cobble’ together a Moon launch - if it would help.”
“Just stretchers and bandages for right now. I don't think a rocket would be of much use to us.”
Cameron righted a table and set out glasses of water and brought some high calorie snacks from Storage then called everyone over: “We have an escape route through the sewers.” of course that elicited responses of ‘eeew’ and ‘ick’.
“You don’t have to come with us, but with the bulkheads down it could take a long time before anybody else gets to you, and the fire isn’t out yet.” it was discussed among themselves but the consensus was that getting out now was much preferred. “If anyone has open cuts try to cover them up, only take what you can carry. If you have flashlights bring them.”
It was impressive to see the ingenuity of these kids, one had a spray on bandage that closed up wounds, others built litters to carry the immobile, still others had or hastily built handheld lighting.
In minutes the group of devisors and gadgeteers had prepared for their escape.
“It will be single file folks, spread the lights out, don’t try to run just walk slowly” directed Cameron as the group approached the sewer entrance.
Dump Truck had stayed at the access door, and even lent a hand to get people through the door, he greeted a few - so maybe he did have friends.
Jericho was the last of the devisors to enter the sewer access and he helped Jinn and Cameron close the access door.
“Tight quarters” observed Jericho as they took up the rear of the procession.
“The advantage of being short” commented Cameron.
“I had hoped to wear my RAFE suit, it has great lights on it” admitted the Devisor.
“I wouldn’t say anything powered would be advisable down here.” admonished Cameron.
“And I just had to wear my best pair of shoes.” tsked the wardrobe challenged youth.
“Could be worse - at least they aren't sandals.” humoured Cameron.
“Those chest waders you have on are quite styling.” admired Jericho.
“You know what they say: A bad day fishing is better than a good day at work.”
“Caught anything?”
“You met the loud mouthed bass.”
“Dump Truck?”
“Shrouds taken to calling him Dumpy.”
“Ohhh! That’s gotta hurt.”
“Hold that thought.” requested Cameron as he sent word for everyone to hush.
The sound of rushing water could be heard splashing in the sewer pipe, Cameron asked Jinn to fly ahead and alert everyone that the water level would be rising - and she should scout an escape spot.
Cameron fashioned some floatation rafts and had them passed up for putting the injured onto.
Outlets that discharged water into the sewer pouring in now, what had only been up to their shins was now approaching knees. The water itself was warm but did help to keep the place cool, however they still felt the heat radiating from around them.
After another hundred feet, the water level had risen to their waists.
When Jinn returned, she said there was a manhole access six hundred feet further, she had gone up and it was safe above: if they hurried they could get out before the water was much higher. They had to pass two more access doors before reaching the manhole.
The pace the group could muster was slow but steady, Jericho pointed out that the first of the access doors was glowing from the heat behind it.
When the line of escapees moved past the second access door, Cameron stopped to do a scan. Jinn floated overhead and Jericho waited with him.
“Have you guys noticed how the water level is dropping?”
“I was wondering about that.” mentioned Jericho.
“It should be gushing in by now.” surmised Cameron “I was just checking - the fire is getting hotter, something's wrong.”
‘What do you want to do?”
“Jericho can you take over and get everyone out - the manhole is just ahead. Jinn: we need to go through that door.” pointed Cameron to the tunnel access.
“Are you sure?” questioned Jinn.
“You can handle the heat, I have an idea on how to deal with it” Cameron desperately needed the 'ghost girls’ help if his plan had any chance of success “Jinn: there are still people in there.”
With a goodbye wave at Jericho since he was taking up the rear guard position and the last to walk down the sewer. Cameron and Jinn stood next to the door, Cameron made adjustments to his energy absorption, and once satisfied with the changes it was possible to see the heat waves coming off the door and flow into Cameron.
Jinn noticed the transfer and asked “What are you doing?”
“I’m absorbing the heat and converting it into energy” answered Cameron “I think I’m ready - cause I no longer feel hot.”
After cooling the door they opened it resulting in a gush of smoke pouring into the sewer, stepping through they quickly resealed the door.
“It looks like smoke has spread thru a lot of passages, but the fire seems contained to two main areas.” Reported Cameron.
“Describe them, maybe I can figure out where we are.” supplied Jinn
"One looks like a garage - there’s all types of cars, the other is like a machine shop there looks to be a bunch of fabrication tools. It’s the hottest so I’d say that’s where the fire started.”
“Fabrication Labs, and the Gearhead’s garage.” announced Jinn: “Whats the plan?”
“Fire is a release of energy and dependant upon three things: air, heat, and fuel. I can stop the fire by removing one of those three things. You don’t need to breath do you ?”
“No lungs. What do you need me to do?”
“When I focus at the molecular level I lose touch with what’s happening around me, I need someone to protect me.”
The tunnel they had entered was another of the isolated sections. Bulkheads had dropped and the corridor was filled with smoke: dropping to the ground Shroud slid along the floor where she could still see, as Cameron walked.
Jinn rose up to his face, pointing to a corner and pulled Cameron along.
Kneeling down, Outlook saw what Jinn wanted. A firemen was laying on the floor, his air-pack mask was off and he was trying to breath through a small filter. Cameron filled the air bottle and held the mask to his face. The man greedily gulped at the air and panted heavily. He was far too warm - so Cameron doused him with water from out of his Reservoir and ‘it’ cooled him down.
“Oye, Laddy: McTavish was surely a goner, if’n ye hadn’a come when ya did.” He said between bursts of breath.
Cameron was shocked: “McTavish! What are you doing down here?”
“An I should be asking ye tat question.” snarked the Security man “Another time perhaps. Gads - what manner be tis bag-o-bones?”
“McTavish, meet Jinn … she’s a ghost, since she’s already dead she’s the best help you could ever want.”
“I’m needin ta ask Lass - how is it ya died?”
“House fire.” replied Jinn trying to act all innocent. For which Cameron gave her a nudge and whispered “That’s not very nice.”
“I’s not be’in instilled wit confidence here.” said the man as he adjusted his breathing apparatus “Have ye no air-bottle boy?”
“I’ve got my own air, and I’m deflecting the heat.”
“Wit ta smoke, ye canna see ta nose on yer face.”
“Got that covered too,” added Cameron.
“Ten ole McTavish ill be stickin close to ya.”
“Access is this way,” called Jinn, directing them down the tunnel.
“Day shut off ta ventilation - it was fannin ta fire” shouted McTavish.
The light from Camerons eyes did little to illuminate where the’d entered, so Jinn called out “Which way?”
“It’s hottest to our right, and flames are burning straight ahead.”
“Then I’d say the garage is that way” pointed Jinn straight down the tunnel “and Fabrication is to our right.”
“McTavish: which do you recommend? Head to the fires core - or knock down the edge?”
The question became moot when an explosion rocked the corridor, sending a concussive force at them.
“If’n dat be ta garage, I’d say it were a fuel drum wit blew. Best head fer dat first.”
The heat was intense as they gathered outside the massive sealed door that was the entrance to the garage, it was hot enough to burn exposed flesh so Cameron lead them back a few steps then began to dissolve some of the concrete wall thereby making an alternate entrance.
Jinn was the first to enter, motioned the rest to follow by tugging on the lifeline they had tied between themselves. They crawled along the floor, sweat poured down Ian’s face from the heat, still: McTavish was calling out progress reports into his radio.
The garage was immense, apportioned into individual stalls that each contained cars in varying stages of repair, five of the vehicles along the wall nearest to the hot spot were on fire, metal having liquified and was pooling on the floor. Drums of oil were burning in the corner with wisps of flames licking up the spilled combustibles filling the room with black smoke.
Cameron stood focusing upon the flames: amidst the smoke the heat waves could be watched as they drew into the youth making ripples in the air. The flames died down as he approached the ignited oil, the flames retracted as if bowing before the boy and then puffed out of existence and the roar abated. Walking past each burning bay the flames looked to rush angrily at the boy - only to disappear in a whoosh as the fire inside would die. Moving along the stalls in turn each burning car relented and soon the room turned dark as flames no longer lit the space.
Cameron next started a vortex which swirled as it collected the smoke into the glowing blue sphere between his hands, his team seeing the improved conditions also stood and assessed the situation around them - they hurried to give help to the scattered bodies laying on the floor.
A hole in the wall was allowing more smoke to enter the workspace, it was pouring heat in and threatened to reignite the fuels, Cameron manufactured a cover and getting help: he, Jinn, and McTavish’s blocked the intrusion and sealed the hole.
Walking back along the bays Cameron pulled out all the heat from the metal husks which was all that remained of the cars, lastly he took away any remaining heat from the oil containers.
Doing a quick survey of the garage area, he called over to McTavish: “I count eight on the floor, four more holed up in the office, is there an outside door to let medics in?”
“Must be an over’ed door sum where? Ow else did day git ta cars down er.”
“Right, found it! There’s a ramp over here. Let them know its safe to use and start sending in help. I’ll make an opening for them.” called out Outlook.
On his way back Cameron checked over the injured students, helping where he could to ease breathing, block pain from burns and stabilize their conditions, he left a note pinned to those he’d helped to give the medic’s some info on their status.
When the first of the rescuers entered Cameron gathered up his team to return into the tunnel, once again charging up McTavish’s air-pack, noting that Jinn was at about 40% of her signature. All agreed to proceed and they headed back into the corridor placing a temporary barrier over the opening Cameron had made to keep the garage area safe.
Backtracking to the intersection, the group turned to approach the hottest area, smoke was still thick and they crawled along. Looking at his team Cameron noticed that McTavish was struggling, swooning from the intense heat - dowsing the man once more with a shower of cold water Cameron pressed his face against Ian’s mask.
“This is as far as you can go. Give me the radio - go back to the garage.”
“I’ll not be abandon’in ye.”
“You’re not! But discretion is the better part of valour, You can’t take the heat.”
“Yer right: I ka’not go tany further - jest make sure ye come outta tis alive boy!”
“That’s the plan.”
McTavish left the two, his movements laboured and slow as he struggled to return.
Jinn asked: “How are you holding up?”
“No problem with converting the heat, let’s just say it’s a strange way to charge a battery.”
The two moved along the tunnel using the far wall as a guide through the thick smoke, but the passage came to an abrupt end as a solid metal door barred any further movement as it completely blocked the tunnel.
“It’s a bulkhead, it dropped down to isolate the tunnel.”
“Can we get past it?”
“Nope, this direction is sealed off - is there another entrance?”
“Not one I know of.”
“Then I’m going to have to make an opening in it. Brace yourself!”
The teens pressed themselves as far as they could against the tunnels wall, Cameron set about dematerializing a small port into the heavy barrier. He’d barely started when the weakened section blew out; the blasts flare caught Shrouds cloak on fire and started to burn up her left side, revealing the metal bone skeleton.
Jinn took off her cloak and stomped on it, putting out the flames. “That was some of my best work” she complained.
Cameron took the cloth into storage, sympathizing: “It looked great.”
Looking through the hole Cameron sized up what was ahead, then increased the openings size so he could crawl through, with Jinn following closely. The entrance door into the lab area had blown clear off it supports and the two peered into the devastated metal shop.
Fabrication Lab was ablaze, anything that would burn was, off on the one side was some kind of kiln, it looked like it was a smelter, but it was easily the single hottest thing in the room.
Being close enough while standing at the door, Cameron reached out and pulled the heat into his battery, he watched his energy level climb as the intense fire dropped a few notches - but didn’t die.
The fire wasn’t willing to return to its cage and wouldn’t be extinguished either, it had all the fuel and air it could want, looking at what fed the beast: Cameron saw a ruptured gas line and manipulated the molecules to plug it off - thereby preventing any more fuel to engorge the flames.
The fire relented as the boy further dropped the temperature, peeling away heat and soaking it up, the white hot furnace visibly cooled as the inferno within ebbed. It no longer roared and the burst seams began to close as it cooled.
Turning to his partner, Outlook was aghast to see Jinn sprawled beside him on the floor, rivulets of molten metal dripping off her form.
“Don’t go to pieces on me now.”
“I’m falling apart, just like Napoleon.”
“Whats that got to do …”
“Bone-apart - Napoleon Bonaparte.”
“Cute, how long have you waited to use that line?”
“That’s telling.” was the last she could say before her voice box melted.
“You’ve gotten me here. I’ll try to cool the place down.” He acknowledged to her.
The metal skeleton gave a mock salute, and collapsed into a pile as the energy signature faded. Cameron picked up the pieces sending them into Warehouse.
Cameron collected the smoke within a whirlwind drawing it into a blue nexus, then began cooling surfaces within the room.
He found a man leaning up against a wall, he had no clothes on but was covered in metal skin, he was unconscious but still alive - even if some of his ‘skin’ had boiled. Looking behind the man Cameron discovered an office, within it lay several unconscious students that the man had dragged to whatever sanctuary the room granted.
Checking that others could now enter, he called on the radio to ask for help. At first only a couple firemen entered through the small opening he and Jinn had used, and once inside he pointed them to the office, their attention focused upon the wounded, and began administering first aid to the victims.
Eventually, a crash came from down the tunnel as a bulkhead was breached allowing entry of more responders. Cameron had been staying back at a distance to not interfere - but did give what help he could; all of the survivors had severe burns with blackened and blistered bodies along with smoke damaged lungs. Doyle would undoubtedly be very busy.
Letting the trained emergency folks do their jobs, Cameron skirted around the orchestrated mayhem and returned to the auto-shop, walking up the garage ramp into daylight. He doffed the fireman jacket giving it a clean before setting it down - then shucked the waders. Off to a side he spotted Jericho helping out a nurse - they shared a wave, he then spied McTavish sitting with nearly a half dozen empty water bottles scattered around him - Cameron approached him. Ian still had the gaze of someone who had run a marathon and was sitting catching his breath.
“Laddy - take a load off.” Gestured the man patting the ground beside him.
“How are you?”
“Ta medic said I’ve sweated buckets, it were hotter en blazes in dare.”
“I don’t know at what temperature Adamantium melts at, but Shroud had to … give up the ghost.”
“Did we lose her?”
“No, but she couldn’t keep holding onto her skeleton any longer.”
“Ow did ye do it boy? It weren’t fit fer mad dogs er Scotsmen down dare.”
“I converted the heat into energy, it only felt warm to me - it was also easy to gather.”
“I’fn ye say so. Did it look like everyone survived ?”
“I didn’t see any fatalities, but burns are very painful, some might be touch and go. I hope everyone makes it.”
“Ye an me boat.”
“I’m supposed to be at Maintenance, I’ll head back there.”
“Aye Lad, if’n m’head t’were n't a spinnen - I’d tak ye dare.”
“It’s okay McTavish, see you later.”
“Gid on ya Lad, Gid on ya!”
Arriving back at Maintenance, Cameron checked in with Mr. Duncan and reported that He, Jinn and Dump Truck had made it out of the sewers safely., after which he returned his gear repairing the damage to it. There was still time remaining on the clock - even if most everyone else had dispersed, a quick look said they’d gone back to their cottages where food was being distributed.
In the shop he found Stan and Morie looking at a wall map and seemingly perplexed. Seeing the boy they asked “How did it go?”
“Fires out, we all got out safe. All the action will be shifting to Doyle now.”
Satisfied with the brief report, the two men returned to their previous discussion.
“The undergrounds sprinklers should have prevented a fire from spreading, each Lab has a separate fire suppression system, it should never have gotten out of control.”
“Do you guys know why the water stopped?” asked Cameron: “In the sewers, it had been pouring in but it stopped.”
“The school’s run out of water” explained Morie “The Reservoir ran dry.”
Stan continued the narrative “No water means no toilets and no food. We’ll have to evacuate the school.”
Morie took up the ball next “Students will need transportation to Dunwich, maybe even Berlin for accommodation tonight or longer - that is if we can get this fixed!”
“What happened to the water?” puzzled Outlook.
“The fire emptied our storage, and the wells haven’t been able to keep up with demand of late, its been a losing battle for awhile now” admitted Stan.
Giving the problem consideration Cameron then questioned: “How much water is needed to keep the school running?”
“3 million gallons would get us through the weekend plus a day or two more.” informed Morie.
“What about the lake? Could we use that to fill the reservoir with?” wondered the youth.
“We haven’t the means to move it. We’d need more pumps than Whateley has on hand - even then it wouldn’t be potable water.” replied Morie
“What is needed to make it potable?” asked Cameron of the now curious maintenance duo.
“Filtration and disinfection.” contributed Stan.
“And permission from the EPA.” added Mr. Duncan stepping into the discussion.
“If we had permission, could move and treat water, is there any other obstacle?” counted out Cameron
“The distribution pumps: when air got into them, cavitation likely ruined the impellers, wouldn’t be surprised that the pumps are screwed.”
“Three impossible things … heck - sounds like a Tuesday to me” jested Morie. “What's our plan?”
“If I may: Mr. Duncan - can you make a call to Admin and keep then up to date on what’s happening, best to have a contingence ready in case we don’t succeed, then contact the EPA and see about getting permission to use lake water.” the supervisor nodded agreeably. “Morie - can you go to the reservoir and check on the pumps, then get the disinfection equipment ready?” Morie accepted the assignment. “Stan: would you take me to the lake, we’ll see about getting water up to the reservoir.”
Mr Duncan asked “Anything else?”
“I could use some more hands, can we try and find Generator? And do you know of anyone who can control water on campus - that would be a great help” requested Cameron.
Stan drove Cameron to the lake on one of the buggies maintenance used on Campus, he stood on the lake shore sampling the water and got an explanation as to what constituted potable water, Stan quickly explained the parameters involved.
Stan received a call on the radio saying they’d gotten a go-ahead from the EPA, and to proceed with the plan.
Cameron stepped into the lake, wading in up to his chest, the water was cool and took his breath away at first but it felt refreshing. He opened himself up and developed an energy field around himself, once he was surrounded by a blue haze, he then allowed water to flow into his dimensional void that held liquids, he kept his focus on only letting pure water through.
Walking back onto shore Stan wrapped a blanket around him and asked “What was that about?”
“Best way I could think of to move water.”
Stan was puzzled but let it go, mentioning that Jade was found as well as a girl called Riptide - they had agreed to help. Cameron asked if they all could meet up at the Reservoir. Driving like a crazed man Stan got them to the schools Reservoir on the other side of campus in a hurry, pulling up - Generator saw Outlook and ran up giving the boy an enthusiastic hug.
“Your okay! And soaked - what? You needed to cool off?”
“Long walk - short pier.”
Grabbing a girl who was standing close by - Jade pulled her over “Outlook: this is Riptide, she lives at Poe too.”
“Riptide: Thank you for coming. Can you please explain to me how you control water?”
“Basically I move water to make waves.”
“Perfect!”
Cameron set Riptide and Morie up to add the disinfecting chemicals, he had Stan and Jade look at the pumps, while he began to empty his personal Reservoir into the schools Reservoir.
The wave action Riptide created allowed the chemicals to mix into the dispensed water, at intervals Morie tested the results as the reservoir was gradually being filled, he made adjustments a few times - adding more Chlorine until he said it was a suitable dosage.
It went fairly quickly, but the chemicals and Riptide needed some time to make waves and mix the contents. With the storage tank full and the water checked to prove it was ready to go - Cameron asked what the story with the pumps was.
Generator took Cameron aside and explained what she’d found when she’d sent J-team into the equipment. One pump had seized when it had no water, two others had internal damage and couldn’t pump. The fourth was an antique from a bygone age and hadn’t worked for years.
“How many pumps will be needed to supply the school?”
Stan and Morie looked at each other, they debated the answer but came to the conclusion that two would work.
“Would anything happen if water just started to flow again?”
Stan shouted out “Don’t! You’ll blow the pipes up with water hammer. It’s got to be re-filled gently and then build up the pressure.”
Cameron looked to Riptide: “Can you move water gently to fill the pipes?”
“Well - yeah, it’ll be slow like letting a bathtub drain.” she mused.
“Good. Jade: could you get Jinn to inspect the pumps once I’m done? Make sure I haven’t melded the parts together. I just need a few minutes.”
Standing beside the first of the pumps, Cameron amassed the metal needed to repair the pumps impeller, it had been worn down dreadfully with holes and entire pieces broken off, checking the bearings he also tweaked them.
Asking Stan and Morie to rotate the pumps shaft he checked his work, Jinn went inside and inspected the pumps surfaces and clearances.
Jade reported: “Looks good.”
Moving to the next pump he did the same, and it too came away with a thumbs up.
Riptide reported that she had filled the pipes, and suggested she head out to ensure the water behaved itself when the pumps started.
Stan took her down to the Quad and radio’d in that they were in position.
Morie started the first rebuilt pump and slowly let it build up pressure, Stan called to wait for a minute as Riptide needed to do something with a pipe.
After short while they called back saying to continue.
Morie fired up the other pump and watched carefully as the monitoring gauges showed the systems climb. Morie let out a breath of relief when it reached a certain mark and seemed to hold, he then began adjusting other devices and controls.
“The guys might not be the most expressive fellas in the world, but it looks like it’s working.” commented Generator.
“Glad to hear it.” sighed Cameron as the exhaustion hit and he needed to sit “I’m going to bed.” reported Cameron as he excused himself - stepping out of the control room and headed towards campus.
Cameron more stumbled than walked to his campsite, arriving at the woods edge he stopped. Sitting on the log that overlooked the lake sat a girl, her head was bowed and Cameron was certain he heard her crying. As he approached the sound of sobbing was irrefutable.
Cameron wasn’t sure if he should sneak away and leave her be - or offer help … he remembered Grace’s compassion. Materializing a box of tissues he tapped the girls shoulder with the box and presented it to her.
“Sometimes a tissue is the most important thing in the world.” he offered.
Looking at the gift, she took one and used it to dab the tears that ran down her cheeks. Turning towards the boy he saw the girls puffy eyelids and streaked mascara “Thank you” she said while taking another tissue.
“It isn’t my place to pry, but I think your heart is where mine was a short time ago.”
“What do you mean?” she sniffled.
“Not long ago, I woke up one morning and found out that all my family was dead.”
“That’s horrible.” she lamented.
“I wasn’t in a good place emotionally, friends did their best to comfort me - and I got some professional help too.”
“Did you get over it?” was asked seeking hope.
“It takes time, and I do still get sad. My psychiatrist said there are steps to cope with losing a loved one.”
“I think you're talking about a recovering alcoholic.”
“No, a person really does go through different emotional states when coming to grips with grief. Finding out my family was dead - it was like I died inside too.”
“When Aung died, I couldn’t believe it - couldn’t accept it” she admitted.
“Then you have this whole deluge of emotions and doubts hit: Why did I live? Why did this happen? What do I do now?”
“Aung was training me, she was my coach and mentor … we became very close.”
“She was preparing you to take her place?”
“I was being groomed to become her.”
“Okay - that I don’t understand. Could you explain it a little?”
“She held a high position long ago, and was starting to build back up to resume her title - we would meld and …” she stopped as her emotions broke down.
“I haven’t any clue about what you just said” admitted Cameron, and mused for a moment before speaking further: “But I do remember when I was a little kid: my grandparents had such a close relationship. It was funny to watch when one of them would start saying something then the other one would finish it. I wondered at the time if the had read each others script and stolen their lines, but I eventually figured out that they just knew each other so well that they understood the others feelings and thoughts.” Digging through his own emotions he continued: “Someday - someday it would be nice to be that important to … that in love with somebody, that we became that intertwined as our lives played out.”
“I respected and admired Aung.”
“You wouldn’t say you loved her?”
“I don’t know what I felt.”
“But you’re grieving her: that means you cared.” he comforted “I needed to let my family go, accept that they were gone - I still love them but they weren’t there to receive or return it. I really miss them.”
“She’s gone and I’m not ready or fit to take her place.”
“Was it that you would assume her place or that she would assimilate you?”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“You had said you would become her. Did that leave room for you to still have your freewill?”
“I imagine it would be a co-ownership, I would still be relevant.”
“When you were being trained: was allowance for what you wanted given consideration?”
“I don’t know what your getting at?”
“Did you have a say in what was going to happen to you - is it what you really wanted? Or had you just gone along with the sales-pitch and all the trappings?”
“It was my destiny.”
“Quoting ‘destiny’ is just a way of pulling the rug out from underneath a reasonable argument.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Fair is letting each person decide for themselves who and what they will become and believe - no-one should demand sacrificing a life. That’s stepping into the realm of slavery or forcing somebody to become an automaton.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Perhaps not.” he relented “But I do feel that you’re upset because you don’t know what to do now. Which way to turn.”
“I feel lost.”
“That is grief talking, it’s perfectly normal.”
“Then I don’t know what normal feels like!”
“Normal is wanting to be happy, to feel loved and be loved. By losing someone our compass has gone askew - it takes time but we do get our bearings back.”
“All I want to do is curl up into a ball and tell the world to go away.’
“I’ve been there.” Cameron confided, “Believe it or not - there are people who care enough to shine a little light into that dark place.”
“And you just happen to be one of those!” she said giving him a glare.
“No. I just happened to be a guy out walking in the woods, and couldn’t ignore a person in pain.”
The redhead took a long hard look at Cameron, in amazement she spoke “Magic bounces off you, my glamour isn’t effecting you!”
“Now your just trying to confuse me.”
“I have a glamour that forces people to - be kind and friendly… it hasn’t touched you.”
“Imagine your talking to someone that doesn’t know the first thing about magic’y stuff - forget that. I’ll just go with: Huh?”
“There is a magical spell on me that diminishes peoples anger and aggression towards me, it makes most docile and submissive around me.” after a further examination of Cameron she asked “I’m going to cast a harmless spell at you - to see what happens.”
“That doesn’t sound like something I’m any too happy about.”
“It’ll just be a gust of wind, come-on - don’t be a chicken.”
“Being chicken … “ he didn’t get to finish as she did something with her hands - then had a shocked look on her face.
“It disappeared, before it even could form - it dissipated.”
“Does making magic involve the use of energy?”
“Essence: it’s call essence.”
“I absorb energy.” he supplied “I suspect essence is a type of energy.”
“Essence is everywhere, it runs in currents called leylines.”
“Everything is energy.”
“That means … you were being nice to me - not because of my glamour, but because your nice.”
“If I’m not mistaken, there was a compliment in there somewhere: Thank you.”
“I never know if people are friendly because their being compelled to - or desire something from me.” turning on him again she demanded: “What do you want from me?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop crying.”
“No ulterior motive?”
“Nothing I want or need.”
After being scrutinized for a while she replied “I believe you. My name is Fey.”
“Outlook” he paused, “I was going to ask if Faye was your real or code-name, but it’s gotten too crazy to keep straight anyhow.”
Fey handed Cameron back the box of tissues, leaned over and kissed his cheek “That was for being a gentleman.”
Cameron blushed at the compliment.
Fey then stood and turned to face him, reaching out with her hands she held his head then bent down and kissed his forehead. “That was for giving me something to think about.”
She hesitated a moment, then ever so gently put her hand under his chin and softly tipped his head back, bending near she kissed his lips.
The delicate touch was like a flower petal being brushed against his skin, the brief contact left a hint of honey as he drew in a slight breath. His lips begged for another taste and an unfamiliar hunger wanted that to happen again.
“What was that for?” he asked - amazed he could make a sound.
“Silly” she said and then tapped his nose with her forefinger “That: was my audition for the role of leading lady.”
Faye danced across the opening by the lake and dashed into the trees. Cameron watched the red hair disappear into the woods.
“Women” he said with a shake of his head “who knew.”
It was only early evening but Cameron was beyond exhaustion, he set up his tent and after giving himself a good cleaning - heated up a bowl of soup for dinner then the boy lay down on his cot and didn’t move for hours.
Sunday, September 25
Cameron checked the time on his SI phone and was amused to find he’d slept for 11 hours, and gave a chuckle: he’d gone to bed feeling tired enough to sleep for a week.
Outlook called up from Warehouse Jinn’s skeleton and commenced conducting repairs to the metal bones, he decided to make a couple alterations that he hoped Jade would approve of: he gave the skull a second face, so that while one was friendly - the other was a skull with deep set lights to add a menacing effect, fixed to the bones were now an assortment of tools like a pry bar and hammer, then to help with the dead theme he made retractable skeletal hands and feet, and finished off by refurbishing Shrouds cloak.
After taking down camp he went to Kane Hall to sign into the day book as he had been dictated to. Then stopping off at Poe, he left Shroud’s body in a gift wrapped box: shaped like a coffin. With still time to kill he walked around campus doing his circuit emptying dumpsters before meandering to Crystal Hall to sit and people watch - while enjoying a hearty breakfast from out of Storage.
Cameron arrived at Maintenance right on schedule, and stood in the line-up awaiting orders. Stan was the senior man on duty and doled out work to the eager student workers, and the equally dreading ‘convicts’ for the days detention. Stan directed Outlook to stay back with him.
After loading up a service cart with tools, he told Cameron “We have a house call to make first-thing today, buckle up!” Cameron was convinced the man was practicing for pole position at the Indy 500 as he raced over the paths.
The little cart nearly ran down a bunch of morning joggers with Stan shaking his fist honking the horn and yelling “Ya bunch of hooligans” while grinning madly before confiding “They love it when we say that” Cameron was bewildered from the near miss, and what he was certain must have been a girl with green hair running in the group.
Stan parked them in front of a four story building which Cameron had determined from his wanderings to be Hawthorne Cottage.
Before entering Stan cautioned: “When we get into the room; don’t stare. Mr Geintz is bout the nicest guy going. He don’t deserve disrespect.”
“Is he - deformed?”
“Watch your mouth! Hawthorne Cottage houses the kids with GSD, they ain’t monsters nor freaks, an they don’t take kindly to those who treat them with pity. They just got the raw end of the meta-gene. So mind your manners!”
“Yes sir.”
The Hawthorne residents seemed to have a heightened curiosity, because once the two from Maintenance entered all heads turned to watch the intruders, Stan was meet with acceptance - Cameron received cold stares set within stern faces. It was beyond his control: the nervous smile etched his face yet again, resulting in scowls from the rooms occupants.
Thankfully they used an elevator to access the basement, the big toolbox Stan had loaded Cameron down with was too heavy to carry far. Just a short distance down the hallway - they entered a huge room, and taking up the majority of space within was a large aquarium.
A number of youth were at work cleaning the tank, the water was a vile green as they scooped out big globs of gunk. When Cameron grunted with the weight of the tools all activity stopped and the stares commenced once more.
Stan moved up near to a machine and began checking it over - asking for tools as he accessed the workings. When he wanted a flashlight Cameron removed his visor and got closer. Then the tension in the room seemed to lessen with a degree of acceptance being granted and the cleaning resumed.
Once Stan had troubleshot the pump he determined the motor was fried, and they’d need a replacement. He moaned: “Always on a Sunday!”
Cameron asked, “Can I take a look?”
Stan humoured him and pointed to the component that had failed saying, “Be my guest.” It took the boy a few moments; but managed to give it a full overhaul, then put a burst of energy into it to check if it worked.
“Thought I’d disconnected the power.” stated Stan.
“You did. I just needed to ensure it was working alright.”
“Same thing as you did yesterday at the Reservoir?”
“This pump is much smaller, less complex, and not as much damage - so it’ll run now.”
“How do you do that?”
“Best description is that I’m a type of manipulator… scratch that - that doesn’t sound very nice. I repair stuff by moving molecules.”
After putting things back together, the still skeptical man turned the machine on - with it humming to life and the rush of water could be heard.
“Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this.”
“You don’t want people to know?”
“I don’t want to be taken advantage of.”
“Only one of you - but theres a billion problems?”
“Bingo! Does anything else need to get checked?”
“Best be inspecting the pipes, ensure there aren’t any blockages."
Stan began feeling the pipes to see if water was moving - Cameron was watching the flow as he stepped up close to the tanks wall. Movement within caught his attention and after adjusting his vision a huge eye was fixated upon him.
The large mass within the tank moved with a jolt - it created a wave. Resulting in a wall of water washed over the tanks lip and the cascade fell on top of Cameron, drenching him.
One of the cleaners; a large hairy hulking guy, shouted at him “What did you do?”
“I didn’t, I …” tried to respond the dripping boy.
The very tall boy that looked like a blonde bigfoot came at Cameron, raising his arm to hit him. Cameron’s reflex reaction was to freeze him. The room hit pause: all activity stopping as everyone else looked at the unmoving flesh statue posed to strike the new kid. The only movement was Cameron who breathed, then shivered and distanced himself from ‘Shaggy’.
After shaking the water off his arms Cameron ran his hands over his head and flung the water droplets off his hands.
“Hello Outlook. Can you hear me?”
Surprised; Cameron looked about trying to figure out who spoke, as it sounded to have come from right beside him.
“Who?” Cameron shifted his sight to investigate and spied an energy tether coming from the tank into the Sasquatch. The body was still suspended mid-motion but his energy signature now had an overlay.
“I’m Louis Geintz, and - I’m the guy in the tank.”
Looking at the tank, the figure inside raised a tentacle and waved at him … it was the source of the tether.
“Do I address the tank or this body?” asked Cameron gesturing to the frozen youth.
“It seems you’re unable to see or hear my psychic manifestation - so I am using Montana as a conduit.”
“You’re a psychic?” asked the boy who then checked the energy signature and was shocked at the strength it emanated.
“Yes, but you have no psychic presence that I can detect.”
“Would you say I’m invisible?”
“I only saw you physically, that’s a first, so it startled me - sorry about the soaking.”
“No worries, and I apologize for invading your space.”
“Now I know how come I couldn’t find you.”
“You’ve been looking for me?”
“I’ve been wanting to speak with you: but I don’t think now is the opportune time."
Looking around the room at the shocked faces Cameron had to agree. “I could come back tonight, seven o’clock?”
“I’ll see about finding someone who can act as an intermediary.”
“Before you … hang-up: how do you feel?”
“Same way everyone else does.”
“Sorry - no, how are you feeling?”
“Well, I’m congested, tend to sneeze a lot, and have itchy eyes and a runny - nose. Why?”
“It looks like you have allergies.”
When Mr. Geintz withdrew from Montana, Cameron detected a ball of energy, and determined that to have been Mr Geintz’ projection, it positioned itself in front of the angry student and prevented him from attacking Cameron.
It took Stan and Cameron an hour or two to install the modifications Cameron had designed and built for Louis’ enclosure. After having tested a couple environmental conditions he discovered ‘FUBAR’ reacted favourably to the thermocline between fresh and salt water, the pumping system he’d constructed made a salt water zone at the tanks bottom and fresh water on top, then through swirling the streams made the majority of the tank into a climactic region best suited for the man’s physiology.
Stan drove them around to monitor the school’s water wells, Cameron looked down each and estimated the water flows - three of the seven had little to no water coming in. Assessing the situation it looked to Cameron that all the tunnel construction had redirected the natural underground water course.
Cameron volunteered to scout the area and marked new locations that had groundwater present, indicating one site that would tap into an underground stream.
The remainder of Cameron’s detention was spent assisting Stan at the Reservoir and then cleaning up the shop before he could leave.
Sunday Evening: Whateley Academy, The Quad
Cameron stood in the Quad bidding his time before heading to Hawthorne, walking aimlessly he was nearly crashed into by a fast moving Dinosaur with tall dorsal spikes who was running down the pathway, at the last possible moment he dodged around Outlook and appeared oblivious to the almost collision. Just a couple steps behind the impatient lizard came Jericho.
Cameron gasped at what the guy was wearing, even with his visor on and his sight not layered catching all the nuances - his clothes were … striking, and not in a good way; rather like being hit repeatedly over the head until you cried ‘Uncle’.
“Hey Outlook!” welcomed Jericho “We were just heading for dinner, Razorback smells BBQ ribs, you should join us.”
“Mr. Geintz asked me to come for a talk, but thanks for the invite. Can I get a rain-check?” Cameron noticed the eager dinosaur bouncing from foot-to-foot in anticipation, acting like a kid in bad need of the bathroom, “Before you go: are you wearing a lime green, orange, and pink plaid kilt?”
“Ain’t it a thing of beauty?”
“We need to talk. See you later,” he called to Jericho who was being dragged away behind Razorback.
Stepping into Hawthorne Cottage’s foyer, he caught the house parent’s attention; with Mrs Savage letting him know that Louis was expecting him and to head on down.
Knocking on the door it was opened by someone unknown to Cameron - but from the signature she was a psychic.
“Hi: I’m Mindbird. You must be Outlook, Foob asked me to speak for him tonight - come on in.”
“Hi, is Mr Geintz going to take you over like he did Montana?” asked Cameron as he checked out the room, it looked like they had been engaged in a chess game prior to his arrival.
“No, I’ll just relay what he says. He’s right thou: you’re standing right here - and I can’t sense you at all.”
Looking at Mr Geintz’ tank, the water was much clearer than earlier, it still had a slight green hue, but it seemed to be a huge improvement. The details of the occupant could be discerned fully and Cameron was amazed that so great an alteration to a human could be survived.
“Foob wants to say he’s feeling better.” remarked Mindbird “He’s inviting us to sit.”
“He’s welcome” said Cameron with a small bow, “May I ask if our conversation will be confidential?” as he took one of the chairs at the chess table.
“Foob is asking me if I would repeat and also swear to an oath: to ensure my discretion.” Mindbird then faced Cameron and spoke: “I give my solemn word that what is said between us shall not be repeated or revealed, it will be kept secret between us. Foob’s words by my mouth - I too swear it” added Mindbird.
“I accept your word” agreed Cameron “What had Mr Geintz wished to talk about?”
“He was in the morgue when you ‘awakened’.” said Mindbird with a degree of surprise at the message she conveyed.
“It was you? I thought somebody was there.”
“It was - It scared him deeply … and he fled.”
“I don’t blame him, I was scared too.”
“So you know you were resurrected?”
“I clued in, it’s a rather troubling experience; one I’m still trying to come to grips with.”
“Not an everyday occurrence to be sure.” was relayed “Are you real? He’s never not felt a persons presence before. There are some who can’t be read - but never not sensing their existence.”
“Flesh and blood. Ophelia checked me over - I’m well and truly alive.”
“He wants to know if you intend to bring harm to the kids at this school?”
“I’m guessing this is a unique experience for a psychic, not having insight into someone - not reading their mind and knowing exactly what they think and feel. I can only give you my word and let you see my actions to show my intentions, just like I must give the benefit of the doubt that Mindbird will keep her word.”
“That wasn’t an answer.” rebuffed Mindbird
“True, but how else might I answer the question? If I accidentally step on someones toes - I have brought harm to them, it happened unintentionally. I have no desire to hurt anyone - but circumstances are beyond my control.”
“Who resurrected you?” was asked “I’m asking - not Foob” added Mindbird.
“Whom did Mr Geintz encounter?”
“He saw a spirit: it stood over you” turning to the tank “Are you certain?” The psychic girl sat back in her chair with a ‘whew’, looking at Cameron she said “Foob says he watched as the spirit removed the bodybag, and healed your wounds, then an immense light flashed and you started breathing. The spirit turned to Food and nodded at him. That so shocked him he lost his projection.”
“Am I to understand that he’s never seen a spirit before?”
“No” answered Mindbird but then paused,“it’s just that it acknowledged him - when ever we visit the astral plane the spirits ignore us - avoid us completely. They only ever interact with humans when inhabiting a host.”
“That’s interesting to know.’
Mindbird was busy speaking to Mr Geintz, but then posed the question “Are you an Avatar?”
“Am I possessed? No! Definitely not.”
“Then what are you? Why a resurrection?”
“I’m human, and my assignment wasn’t finished.”
“What’s your assignment?”
“Some might call me an observer, but I could also be described as a catalyst.”
“Can you explain that?”
“When making dough, baking soda is added to make a reaction. That is the role of a catalyst.”
“Have you come to toy with us, like we’re a game.”
“Certainly no game.” assured Outlook, “But perhaps I could illustrate by using your chess board?”
Mindbird passed along Louis’ permission.
“Chess is an ancient game, its purpose was to teach strategy - was it not?” Looking at Mindbird she nodded in agreement.
“Interestingly the pieces are fashioned after societies structure; you have the ‘King’, the key figure who signifies a lost campaign, he can only move one square at a time - reflecting the importance of his position. Government is held together through him.”
“The Queen however, is also a figure of government that can move about the board with little restraint; it shows another facet of government, how it must react fast at times by word or action.”
“The Bishops obviously represent religion who always ingratiates itself next to government; hence its station on either side of the King and Queen. Yet it moves diagonally; it signifies that it is untrustworthy - deceitful, you never truly know what motives it really has.”
“Next is the Rook, shaped like a castle it signifies the physical kingdom: commerce, trade, food. It moves in a straight line, being held to direct paths to bring surety and security.”
“Then there are the Pawns: the common people, pictured as being of little account so easily forfeited. Each of them can only make small moves being held under the thumb of those ruling over them: The rich - powerful - entitled, the pieces behind pushing the pawns forward to the whims and winds.”
Mindbird interrupted “What about the Knight?”
“That is the question isn’t it.” pondered Cameron as he picked up that chess piece looking at it, “Throughout history knights have entered battle under the banner of kings, cities or estates, and religion - it too creating its holy warriors. The image is that they epitomized noble traits like: justice, honour, and truth.” He put the piece down.
“In the earliest iteration of the game, the Knight was sculpted as a Were. They had been prized warriors in battle: fearless, tough and cunning. But when the fortunes of war changed new combatants where fashioned - the meta-gene was formulated and these enhanced humans bolstered the depleted ranks of war.”
“When their lords and masters decreed annihilation of the Were, their place on the board was vacant, but then filled by the new replacements. So the question is: where does the heart of the knight lie?” finished Cameron.
“Which side are you on?” questioned Mindbird pointing to the opposing pieces set on the board.
Putting both his arms onto the centre of the chess board Cameron spread them outward sweeping all the pieces off. Placing his opened hand flat onto the cleared board he stood and said, “That’s my side!”
End Part 3
It’s A Matter of Death and Life: part 4
A non-canon Whateley Universe story
By Camospam, editing by Wendy K
Whateley Academy, Kirby Hall: Monday Oct 15, 2007
Louis Geintz had just wrapped up his famous Psychic ethics discourse, It’s a topic every student in his class would at some point need to face, and likely agonize over, because undoubtedly they’ll each need to decide whether to ‘cross the line’ or not.
A psychic has an especially challenging approach when using their powers. While an exemplar might have limitations to their strength, if they exercise their ability; say by starting out lifting a Volkswagen - however, by pushing themselves they could build up to hefting a bus. Conversely, a psychic needs to practice not pushing the limits, to not explore what’s possible. Instead, it’s all about finesse and discretion.
A truly skilled psychic is one that does no damage - to not leave footprints saying they'd been there, depending - of course, upon the decision of having ethics: if one sought to be good or bad.
If a psychic cared nothing about ethics, or perhaps better stated: had no moral inhibitions over harming other people … herein lay what always bothered Foob most. A simple punch can be easily healed from, so too a broken leg or arm although serious injuries, but a psychic blow! It has the potential to destroy a persons life and ruin their mind completely. It was possible to even kill with a thought. This is why he put such effort into teaching the value of ethical behaviour.
He hoped his students would always pick the high road because of his teachings.
The students left class with subdued vigour, the message was heavy, but at least its importance wasn’t easily discarded. Staying behind to speak with him were a few of his astral neighbourhood watch volunteers: The Dream Team, the students who took turns observing the goings on in the spirit realm.
He had tasked them with a special assignment: to observe if an inordinate amount of spirits had gathered at Whateley. Ever since his conversation with Outlook he’d been worried there might just be more happening in the realms than he’d believed.
His students would gawk in awe at him whenever he recounted his experience that night in Doyle’s basement, what he’d seen (leaving out names): how a spirit entity had stood close to him - it acknowledged him … that simply never happened! Spirits always avoided contact with psychics, they only ever condescended to speak with humans when one was bonded to an Avatar, even then conversation was vague or superficial.
It never occurred to Louis before, as it was one of his students that drew his attention to the disproportionately large number of Avatar students attending Whateley. He’d tried checking school records for the actual percentage, and was dismayed by the response to his inquiry: ‘That is classified information’ plus having to explain to Ms. Hartford why he wanted to know such a thing. He didn’t disclose exactly why he’d asked, but told her it was to be better prepared for teaching and advising students hosting another mind.
His personal count pegged the number of Avatars as having increased ten fold over the last five years, a disturbing trend.
After debriefing the Dream Team over what they’d found during their ‘patrols’, a pattern was beginning to form, but precisely what the big picture was - Louis hadn’t figured that out yet.
Tunnels under Whateley Academy
Solange walked into the secret room that the Alpha’s kept in the tunnels, reserved for some of it’s more clandestine meetings, there hadn’t been much need for this room lately - not since ‘The Don’ had fallen from grace, but still it afforded privacy when the situation demanded … discretion.
Entering the dimly lit meeting space Tansy saw seated at the table the Alpha Alpha: Wyatt Cody. Across from him was Imperious the leader of the New Olympians, or Zeus reincarnated, if Jason Stratholm was to be believed. The two looked to have just finished an argument when Tansy entered, her empathic reading from off both of them said it was something they didn’t want to share with her, and the timing of her arrival had ended the argument on pins and needles.
Jason stood and gave Tansy a casual greeting in passing as he left the room.
“Did I interrupt something?” asked Tansy.
“We had finished, you actually broke up an awkward moment.”
“I thought you would want this right away,” informed Tansy placing an envelope on the table and pushing it over to Wyatt.
“Were there any problems?”
“The transaction took longer than expected, the exchange needed extra precautions.”
“You said it would be straight forward.”
“Normally it would have been; but there was added complications.”
“What kind of complications?”
“My contact demanded a higher price than usual, and greater security for the exchange. He was being extra cautious since I haven’t been a regular customer after parting company with The Don.”
“Was your source suspicious.”
“Of course he was suspicious, it’s not like going to the corner store to get a newspaper. I was asking for classified documents, I’d think him a fool if he didn’t take precautions.”
“What did you get?”
“It’s what you’ve asked for - the official incident report: part of an ongoing criminal investigation. It’s not an original - but is a copy taken before it was put into sealed storage. My contact needed … encouragement to commit a felony. His price was steep, Daddy is going to ask questions.”
“You’re saying this could have gone outside Whateley? Elaine could be charged with something!”
“Yes. Technically we are now accessories to a crime” informed Solange.
“It’s Elaine, I’d do anything for her” admitted Wyatt.
“I didn’t say NO when you asked for my help, Lanie’s my friend - how could I not assist?”
Wyatt opened the envelope and read the report boldly stamped ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ and when finished he huffed in distaste before slamming the document onto the table, “I thought you said this is an official report.”
“It is” mollified Tansy.
“All names have been redacted, we don’t know who the infiltrator was!”
“Does it matter? He’s gone now - Grizzly did a good job of that.”
“If one fails you can be certain another will be dispatched. What worries me is this open incident report … and no detention for Elaine, it feels wrong” mused Wyatt.
“What should we do about it?”
“Not much to be done. We bide our time and stick to the plan” summed up the senior, “But you have to wonder: How did it know to come to Whateley?”
“Are you saying we should have asked it questions first?” wondered the girl.
“Of course not. But we better keep alert! This last one lit up like a sunrise, the next one might be harder to spot” he advised.
“We can watch any new arrivals, see if another one tries to slip in” assured Tansy, receiving a nod in agreement from Wyatt.
“We need to keep to the timetable moving. Is everything ready for tonights meeting of the Atlantean League?” asked the Alpha.
“Word has been circulated, usual place - usual time” notified Tansy.
The gesture of dismissal from Wyatt indicated that they had finished their business.
“Thank you Mustang.”
“Your welcome Kodiak.”
Dunn Hall: Wednesday Evening, October 17, 2007
Cameron was a bundle of nerves as he stood in the hall. Again he pulled at the bottom of his jacket trying to assuage his fear that it sat funny on him, straightening it for the umpteenth time. Either his clothing was simply out of proportion - or his young and growing body just wasn’t ready to sport formal wear.
He’d had to lengthen all his clothes after each growth spurt, another overnight inch increase with accompanying aches and pains confirmed he was filling out. That thought took him back to the times when ‘her’ Mom would mark the kitchen door frame with both the kids heights. Beside each was added their ages, and James would stand tippy toe to say he was catching up to Cameron. They would get into a fight over it, and … Cameron was ready to call it a night and started to turn about when the room’s door swung open.
“Don’t just stand there! Come in!” enthused a lady with prominent horns and a spade ended tail as she reached across the doorway and pulled the discombobulated boy in.
He wasn’t absolutely certain what had just happened, since he found himself standing inside a room that was large, but not huge, populated by a plethora of students who were attempting to move - with varying degrees of success, in harmony with the music.
Nearly all the rooms tables had been cleared away with only a few chairs remaining - being set up along one perimeter of the dance floor. The space wasn’t decorated like a fancy ballroom, nor was it adorned with a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. At least Cameron’s worst fears hadn’t been realized.
Cameron needed to remind himself to breath so he finally exhaled. Dancing Lessons … he wasn’t completely settled onto the notion, but he’d promised Cecilia he’d at least try, and some company would be nice.
The dancing lessons poster on Crystal Hall’s notice board gave directions to and the times for the lessons held Monday and Wednesday nights, and Saturday afternoons. Even so: he hardly knew anyone at Whateley, and Mrs. Carson’s warning that he’d be unwelcome - even hated by other students was foremost in his mind.
The dance floor was occupied by a few couples receiving instruction from Miss Rogers about the proper positioning and footwork for a Foxtrot. At the moment Miss Rogers was giving pointers to a unique couple: the boy was quite tall and rather hairy, in fact he looked just like a werewolf from those old horror movies. Except when Cecilia moved his hand up from off his partners bottom and onto her back his toothy grin was exactly like that of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, even though he offered profuse apologizes.
Cameron sidestepped around the main flow of activity on the floor by keeping his back close to the wall. He headed towards a set of empty chairs and had almost succeeded in claiming one when his arm was latched onto, he found himself forcibly getting pulled across the room by the surprisingly strong lady with the devils tail and horns.
The woman retained a mischievous grin as she ‘escorted’ Cameron across the dance floor, his feet barely touching the ground as he was manhandled across the room. The lady had a scattering of black scales across her skin - which played havoc with Cameron’s sight as he blinked trying to adjust his vision. He was deposited beside a girl in a nice evening gown who was busy arranging items on a table, she hadn’t noticed the altercation coming towards her.
“Billie! I’ve found a partner for you” said his assailant.
The girl stood upright, straightening her dress, then turned to face them.
“You!” she said loudly in a sharp voice that made everyone turn to see what the commotion was about.
Cameron easily recognized the bizarre energy signature of Jade’s roommate; Billie Wilson aka Tennyo. Her dazzling signature was on displayed like a lit sparkler, burning brightly and sending off stray bursts which fizzled out as they flew away.
“Oh good, you know each other” delighted the lady as she maneuvered the two together and hastened them to face each other in preparation for dancing. They stood face to face and Cameron watched as Billie's nostrils flared while she breathed through her nose sporting a peeved expression.
“Hi Billie” offered Cameron as a wave of panic built within.
With effort she reined in her voice and asked “What did you do to me? I was a laughing stock.”
It took a while to piece together what the upset girl might be talking about “We met - and shook hands. I left a plate of poutine at the table - you didn’t like it?”
“When we touched - what did you do to me?” she demanded of him, forcefully tapping his sternum with an accusatory finger.
“I … shook your hand?” he slowly responded, his focus distracted by all the hair that just seemed to ignore gravity, “What kind of hairspray holds like that?”
“Don’t change the subject!”
“It must take … like what? Two whole cans of the stuff to get it to stand up like that.”
“Forget the hair - answer the question!” she was getting frustrated and grabbed his jacket in her fists.
“I’m sorry Billie: I don’t understand what’s made you upset.”
“I saw stars - in mid-day! I felt the earth hurtling through space, It was like being on the bridge of a starship.”
“Ummm, would you say it was like how in Star Wars when they streak towards you, or in Star Trek when they pass by a window?” asked Cameron between glances at the fascinating hair.
“It was you!” accused an exasperated Billie, giving him a shake.
“I was just trying to grasp your metaphor: I don’t know what happened. Could you try describing it for me?” squeaked out the boy who had progressed to level 6 worry, as Billie renewed her firm grip on his jacket.
“I was standing on the earth but could see out into space, I felt the earth turning and I could sense great speed as if traveling through space” sounded out a perturbed Billie endeavouring to recall the sensation.
“It sounds … amazing. Had you been standing on a mountain top? Did you notice anything around you?” commented the now intrigued lad.
“ I … No - we! You and I, ‘We’ were standing in Crystal Hall, but it was like it wasn’t really there” spoke Billie in realization.
“I’m going to suggest something, and please don’t get angry,” reasoned Cameron as he noted her grip hadn’t relaxed. “Maybe if you try touching my hand - to see if it happens again?”
“Is this your idea of a come-on?” she snarled and fixed the boy in a stone cold stare that bore through his visor.
“No!” admitted Cameron, who; if he could - would have gotten some distance from the aggressive girl, “I am just trying to eliminate possibilities, figure out what happened.”
“No funny business?” demanded Billie as she pressed her face closer into Cameron’s personal space.
“Honest, I don’t know what happened” admitted Cameron, his actions coming close to outright panic now “Please. Can you put me down … I’m not fond of heights.”
During the whole interchange, the two had begun to float, they had risen to a height nearing three feet off the ground. In surprise, Billie looked around and was shocked to see them both free floating in the air with her still holding tightly onto his clothing, but she hadn’t intentionally been lifting him.
“You’re a flyer?” she asked as they began to descend.
“I sure hope not” replied Cameron, who once his feet touched down gave a big sigh of relief. “I prefer to be attached to terra-firma.” Then after adjusting his bunched up clothes, Cameron presented his hand: palm up, inviting Billie to touch it.
Billie tentatively put her hand into Cameron’s and slowly looked up, “I can see the moon, it looks all dimpled and rough.”
Cameron did a scan before speaking “Billie, the moon’s over there” he said while pointed in the opposite direction she was looking to, “I think you’re seeing the stipple ceiling with telescopic vision.”
“A who what’s it now?” was the girls befuddled reply.
“Try looking outside” advised Cameron gently bringing the girl nearer to one of the rooms windows.
“Whoa, that’s what I was talking about, there are so many stars!” exclaimed Billie.
“I’m going to take a wild guess here” offered Cameron “I have never flown before - and you haven’t had enhanced sight” the starstruck girl nodded in agreement, “I’d say our abilities are interacting somehow.”
“Are you a power mimic?”
“You’ll need to explain that power set for me.”
“A mimic can copy or steal somebody’s powers.”
“No, although I do absorb energy - so that might explain the levitating” surmised Outlook, “But as to why you’d be picking up some of my sight … are you a mimic?”
“Not any longer.”
Cameron was puzzled at that comment but didn’t press the issue, “Well: sorry then. I don’t know the why’s.”
“How many types of sight do you have?”
“Microscopic, Thermographic, X-ray, to name a few” answered Cameron, “Tell you what, if I try putting on a pair of gloves, let’s see if that is enough of a barrier to stop the transfer.” Cameron brought out a pair of leather gloves and put them on, thereafter he again held his hand out to Billie.
Billie cautiously took the offered hand and then looked around, almost disappointed she said, “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“No dizzying array of colours and patterns?”
“Oh! Did Jericho come for dancing lessons?”
They shared a laugh at that resulting in Billie withdrawing her hand from Cameron’s. After a moment of awkward silence the boy gave a slight bow and held out his gloved hand asking “Do you wanna dance?”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
As it so happens, Billie turned out to be an accomplished ballroom dancer, for her part; she was pleasantly surprised with Cameron’s ability which she rated as a novice. He credited the training he’d received from figure skating - and not having two left feet helped greatly.
Learning the Foxtrot turned into a fun evening with the two gaining an easy camaraderie after their shaky start. They talked mostly about Jade and her J-Team antics interspersed between Miss Rogers and Miss Imp giving dancing advice, pointers and encouragement. At the end of the lesson everyone in the class broke into applause to say thank you.
Miss Roger called for everyones’ attention:
“I would like make an announcement: Whateley will be having this years Annual Fall Ball on November 30th.” Cecilia appraised her audience to gauge the level of excitement before continuing.
“In consultation with the teachers and trustee’s: We are hoping to inspire within the student body a greater interest in ballroom dancing. To that end we have decided upon a dance contest to encourage more participation in this class. So I am pleased to announce, that we are going to be holding the first ever Whateley Academy Dance Contest, to be held during the Fall Ball.” That bit of news sparked a little more interest and everyones focus was directed upon the lady to hear more details from Miss Rodgers.
“Some of you might be familiar with the TV show ‘Dancing with the Stars’, we are going to have a similar competition, each couple will perform at least one dance to be scored by a panel of celebrity judges.”
“What will I win?” was called out by a blond girl somewhere nearby in the group of students. The boorish comment made Billie wince as she mumbled the name Exquisite.
“Each team will be scored on originality, you will need to incorporate popular types of media: such as famous entertainment into your dance routine. Every couple can recruit one support person to assist them in preparation.”
“What will I win?” was again called out to everyones annoyance.
“The support person can help with costumes and coaching, and heaven forbid - in case of injury.”
“What do …”
“The winners will get a pass for an all expense paid evening in Berlin which will consist of dinner and a movie plus transport to and from Whateley.” Informed Cecilia with a degree of impatience at the interruptions and glared at the obnoxious girl. “Please get the entry forms and contest rules from Miss Imp.”
Billie excitedly rushed over to the lady with the horns and tail while beginning a lively discussion with some of the other students. Cameron moved away from the crowd and looked around the room glancing at the less than friendly faces, most appeared indifferent towards him while others had an underlying hostility.
He walked over to retrieve his discarded jacket, smiling shyly at the students he passed nearby - but getting little notice from them when offering hellos. He sighed inwardly and had to acknowledge the accuracy of Mrs Carson’s warning in her office, about how Whateley students would not be welcoming to him.
So be it, friends were a luxury he couldn’t afford right now, he had to keep his head down until school administration sorted out the mess his life was in.
He made his way to the exit, then standing on the doors threshold he looked back at the throng of excited youth, Cameron gave a goodbye wave which was unacknowledged and headed off wondering: what was wrong with everybody.
Settling in for the night Cameron crawled onto cot and into his sleeping bag, it took a few minutes for his bed to warm up and a long time before sleep claimed him - he tried to come to grips with feeling both happy and sad as he reflected on his day.
Maintenance Yard: Oct 18, 2007
Cameron woke early, and needed to warm up his new room - considering how cold it had gotten last night, the morning dew had turned to frost. Ever since that extraordinarily harsh freak storm had hit a week ago, the temperature was much colder at night, so cold in fact he’d needed to give up his campsite.
That storm had dropped the temperature fast and dumped a lot of snow, which meant he left tracks: tracks that could lead someone right to him. Also, keeping a tent warm was a big energy expenditure.
Cameron’s thoughts went back to the start of that freak storm: how that singular event had sprung drastic circumstances. He and all the other students had been released early from detention when the storms intensity grew, all students being cautioned to return to their dorms until the storm passed. On his way back to his lakeside campsite he came across some government recruiters - he’d noticed they always seemed to be lurking about the campus and he typically avoided them, it seems they too had been caught unawares and unprepared for the quick change of weather.
Two of the sneaky operatives were hidden in a camouflaged blind in some shrubs and had huddled under an emergency blanket to keep warm - it wasn’t helping. Cameron discretely warmed them by infusing heat into their circulatory systems and then offered to shelter them through the storm. They raised a concern about another agent, whom Cameron was able to find by scanning the surrounding undergrowth. The third agent was exhibiting early stages of hypothermia, once Cameron tended to his condition and got him on his feet, the youth then lead the three to his campsite.
Still a distance away, Cameron materialized his outfitters tent, it was just large enough to hold all of them, and he poured heat into the stove to warm the space in preparation of their arrival. By putting layers of insulating blankets overtop the outfitters tent, it retained the heat from the stove well enough to keep it comfortable inside and protected them as the storm raged.
To keep attention off his abilities, he set out four beds and blankets, then to forgo the inevitable situation; he brought out of Storage all the food and drink he estimated they might need.
His guest’s first question upon entering the tent was why he wasn’t housed in a dorm, and surprisingly enough they bought Cameron’s excuse that he was earning outdoor survival points - detailing that it was a mandatory expectation within Canada’s education curriculum: since every Canadian needed to know how to survive in arctic conditions.
It took some time before the three warmed up enough to make introductions, Mr Craig with the CIA, Mr Wurth of the FBI, and Lieutenant Saunders, she worked for the NSA. Cameron was reluctant to disclose his affiliation with the RCMP, stemming from Chief Delarose’s warning to not disclose that info to anyone, when he did tell them it turned out to be a revelation which each of them took offence to, seemingly concerned Cameron might be horning in on their ‘territory’ by trying to conscript Whateley students to join the RCMP.
It was only after repeated assurances from Cameron that he was only here to attend school that they relented. Then in an effort to show his earnestness and because nobodies cell phones would work, he volunteered to let each of them make use of his Special Investigations satellite phone to notify their respective handlers in the CIA, FBI, and NSA to apprise them of their condition. The agents then began a marathon of coercion: as Cameron was beset with attempts at recruitment, he tried kindly to defer their efforts, but it wasn’t until disclosing to them his posting under the Canadian diplomatic office before they desisted in trying to sign him up.
Over the course of the their time together Cameron needed to stoke the fire in the stove often, refill the lantern for light, and top up coffee cups, he even put on a big pot of homemade bison stew to warm up for dinner and baked a tray of baking powder biscuits. His new friends were appreciative of his help and hospitality, raving about how tasty the meal was, and in a show of mutual support promised not to make waves for him as he sorted out his life at Whateley.
The agents had wanted to play poker to help pass the time: however, when Cameron repeatedly disclosed what everybody's dealt hand of cards were, they were open to suggestions. It took some convincing and several attempts at demonstration before they eventually started a game of ‘Greed’: a dice game Cameron’s family loved to play, it didn’t take long before they were so deeply enthralled with the game that no-one paid attention to the time.
The tent was just large enough to accommodate the four, however the situation demanded they make the best of it, but after the storm broke and the agents left to return home, it was apparent to Cameron how exposed he was. It was then that Cameron began hunting for a new hideout, in order to deflect Whateley’s attention away from himself, and prevent them from handing him over to the MCO.
Returning to the now Cameron looked outside, he was uninspired by the vista, the maintenance yard was not one of Whateley’s scenic highlights. The view stung his heart with him being reminded of his detention; the endless barrage of menial tasks he was forced to perform.
The guys in Maintenance had at least begun to act friendly toward Cameron, but they still had to treat him the same as all the other detainee’s. He had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting freed of detention until passing high school - only then could he present himself to the office, maybe then Mrs Carson would explain what it was he’d done wrong!
Although Cameron had really enjoyed his campsite, and missed the tranquil setting, it was also that he didn’t feel oppressed while staying there.
As odd as it sounded, camping felt more like home than anyplace else had since … he shook off that bit of sadness, an unpleasant reminder about his family.
Deep in thought he again looked out over the maintenance yard through the c-cans walls. He had found a shipping container in the yard used for additional storage which was only partially filled, so he fashioned a false wall taking up one third of the space within the c-can, creating a comfortable home for himself. He splurged by making his new hideout look just like a log cabin inside, complete with a wood burning fireplace - although he mostly just warmed a metal stove until it glowed to heat his new room.
To keep his location discrete, and since he had no need of windows, there were no outward signs he had taken up residence, he would dissipate part of the wall to enter and exit, and all the traffic in the yard during the day hid his tracks. Plus having access to the washroom and shower in the maintenance shop was a bonus.
Cameron left fly a dejected sigh over his reflection upon his life at Whateley, it could be summed up as consisted of: Beck Library during the day as he continued the on-line high school courses using the libraries wi-fi, Crystal Hall to people watch and dissect the powers present at meal times, then to Maintenance and fulfilling the detention punishment Mrs Carson had assigned him. Cameron wasn’t happy about the situation, but he was alive - that had to count for something, and he had at least prepared for the worst.
Hawthorne Cottage: October 20, 2007
It was a rainy day, which to a kid is a huge disappointment, especially when it’s a Saturday. Cameron arrived at Hawthorne a couple minutes to 9:00 as he’d been instructed to yesterday when finishing up at Maintenance yesterday. Mr Duncan said this cottage had asked for some extra help, meaning they wanted a detention slave for the day.
Cameron entered the cottage’s foyer, he’d removed his visor outside, recalling how the residents granted a minor degree of acceptance before when he and Stan had helped Mr Gientz. The housemother was scooting about like a hen gathering her chicks and only mildly restricted by her wheelchair. The residents of Hawthorne acted like any other kids looking to let loose, some playing games while others were engaged in conversation, and still more just wandering about seeking amusement wherever available.
Although Cameron entered without drawing attention – that vanished once a resident called out “Deadman walking” to alert all to the arrival of a detainee. Cameron waved with trepidation to the questioning eyes that now turned toward him. Most ignored the gesture and returned to what had been their previous interest. However, Cameron found himself the focal point of four of the youngest kids he’d seen at Whateley.
“Your eyes are weird” said the first to speak.
“Revy, you shouldn’t call people weird, it’s not polite” scolded the second.
“I didn’t call him weird ... just his eyes” complained the first.
“Well, it’s not like he can just take his eyes out now can he?” said the second “Can you?” was asked, turning to look at Cameron in wonder.
Cameron had the presence of mind to shake his head no.
“Eewww, that would be gross if he could” interjected the third.
“Almost as bad as the guy who snorts loogies” added Revy.
Cameron now stood in the midst of an argument about what was the most disgusting abilities these four had yet witnessed. He wasn’t sure what was expected of him - but had to smile at the inappropriateness of the kids fascination. The fourth member of these young-bloods: a shy boy, hadn’t said anything, but just continued to watch him.
Rescue came from the housemother who shoo’d the awe starved kids away. “The world can be an exciting and strange place,” she offered to explain the young one’s conduct.
“It’s best explored with eyes wide open,” Cameron gave in understanding, “I was told to report to you, Mr Duncan said you are having problems with a washroom?”
“The men’s room on the fourth floor, east wing - but all of them should be checked over, is Stan or Morie with you?”
“No ma’am, Mr Duncan felt I could handle this on my own. But if I need help; I might have to call maintenance. Could I bother you in that regard?”
“I’m mostly stuck on the main floor without use of my other chair, so you’ll need to come find me.”
“Yes Ma’am. Thank you.”
Cameron proceeded to the fourth floor and located the first washroom to discover it had numerous problems, not the least of which was several non-functioning toilets. He commenced doing a full restoration: repairing the plumbing, fixing the walls and floors, renewing the fixtures and sanitized the room from top to bottom. It was a big expenditure of energy so he paced himself but still needed to sit on the floor to rest once done. He was surprised to find he had an overseer: the fourth kid from the mornings cuteness cluster, the silent one.
Cameron took the initiative and introduced himself, “Hello, I’m Outlook.”
It took a minute before the boy responded in a small quiet voice, “Morgan.”
“Morgan, would you help me?”
“I’m not cleaning a washroom for you” he said, emphatically shaking his head no.
“No. That’s my job today. I was hoping you could stand watch and warn me of anyone coming while I’m working in the ladies room.”
“Are you called Outlook because of your eyes?”
“Do you know what an outlook is?”
“Isn’t that where guys watch for forest fires?”
“Your close: those are Lookouts. An outlook is your frame of mind - what’s in your heart”.
“So, your heart is on fire ... cause your eyes are bright?”
“Good enough. Are you okay lending me a hand?”
“Is it going to take long?”
“It could take a while. Will that be okay?”
“I gotta go potty.”
Morgan stuck to Cameron like glue, it slowed down how much he was able to do, so he hoped the housemother: Mrs Cantrel, wasn’t upset. At times, all four of the little munchkins would be zipping about him – not getting in the way so much as needing entertainment, and Cameron seemed to be the only game in town.
It was just shortly after lunchtime, and Cameron had only finished the fourth and third floor washrooms when Mrs Cantrel sent word that she had something arranged for the team of troublesome terrors. Cameron escorted them down to the main floor.
“So, this is where you kids have snuck off to, come along: I’ve arranged a movie for you over at Kirby Hall.”
The more outgoing three of the group made a rush, but Morgan dropped his head and stood unmoving.
“Morgan? Are you coming?” asked Mrs Cantrel.
Surprisingly, he spoke up and asked “Can I stay? Outlook might need me.”
The housemother had a shocked look and cast her suspicious eyes upon Cameron.
“Please Mrs Cantrel, can Morgan stay? He’s been a huge help” interjected Cameron.
“Alright, why don’t you two head into the kitchen, it could use some attention. And young man: I consider babysitting a suitable form of detention.”
Morgan grabbed Cameron’s hand and dragged him toward something new to do. The kitchen was by no means small, it had a dining area attached which seemed to get considerable use since many of Hawthorne’s residents couldn’t leave for meals - and some couldn’t be bothered and remained in the cottage on red flags days, instead of venturing to Crystal Hall and the likelihood of being mocked or scorned.
Getting dragged to one of the tables, Morgan asked if Cameron wanted to play a game, he instead offered a compromise: chocolate milk. The confused boy watched as Cameron brought out a couple glasses of the rich light brown drink, and set them onto the table, he also handed the boy a straw.
Morgan asked “What’s so special about choca milk?”
“Watch” answered Cameron as he used his own straw to blow bubbles into the drink. The young boy gave a delighted squee and only made a small mess as he commenced blowing bubbles into his own glass, but the smile he wore was worth it.
“Why didn’t you want to go with your friends?”
“It’ll be dark in a movie” he confided, “This place is scary, but it’ll never be dark with you around.” He looked with a pained expression at Cameron and whispered, “I’ve seen monsters.”
“I’ve noticed a couple monsters too” said Cameron to the boys wide eyed amazement, “What do you suppose we should do about it?”
“I don’t know” the little guy said with a shrug, “I’m not very brave.”
“I have a great idea; why don’t I show you how to make a weapon that is sure to have even the scariest of monsters disappear.”
It took a moment, but eventually the shy little thing said; “so kay.”
“And wouldn’t you just know it, we’re at the perfect place to make them.”
The two commandeered the kitchen, and Cameron began the lesson by showing Morgan the proper method to measure the secret ingredients. He brought each item out from Storage that wasn’t already available in the kitchen, and had his new apprentice mix them together: very carefully, into one of the large bowls they’d located in a cupboard.
They each gently rolled the concoction into little balls that Cameron insisted they each had to sample to ensure accuracy. Placing the small balls onto pans they put them into an oven and minutes later out came the product of their labours.
“What do you call these?” asked Morgan.
“Monster bait” replied Cameron.
“They smell really good.”
“Monsters can’t resist them. So where are we going to find the biggest - scariest monster?”
“She lives in the basement.”
“She?!” exclaimed a shocked Cameron “I guess it’s only fair that equal rights apply to monsters too” he surmised, “Lead the way.”
The two stood in the hallway outside the door to one of Hawthorne’s Resident Advisors: Caitlin Bardue, aka Eldritch. Cameron had met her before as she was one of Jericho and Razorbacks friends, but he didn’t know her well.
Morgan had described her as the most fear inducing monster ever! She looked like a metal statue covered in tattoos, with braided cables for hair, and sparks flew off her when she walked. She scowled and growled constantly, and the little kid was terrified of her.
Handing the plate of still warm monster bait to Morgan, Cameron approached the door and knocked.
“Who’s there?” was called out in a short abrupt burst, so loudly it echoed around the basements corridor.
“Avon calling” replied Cameron.
A grumbling muttered voice could be heard nearing the door saying, “I don’t know any Avons.” The door swung open with such force the hinges squawked in protest, the suddenness of the doors swing left a whoosh of vacuum, making the two gasp for breath. The now open door revealed the well muscled and imposing occupant, “This better be good” said Eldritch.
“We’re on a mission to win friends and influence people” quipped Outlook.
“Just how might you intend to do that?”
Cameron motioned Morgan forward, who held the plate in-front of himself as a protective shield between him and the rooms occupant, as Outlook cheerfully announced “Chocolate Chip Cookies.”
Eldritch was caught completely off-guard “Damn, you went straight to the big guns.”
“This is serious business” advised Cameron with a small smile forming in the corner of his mouth.
“You better come in then” invited Caitlin sneaking a cookie off the plate as Morgan moved past her. “Mmm, still hot from the oven. You guys aren’t messing around.”
Having gotten invited into a couple chairs, Caitlin asked the pair: while munching her third cookie, “What’s up?”
“Morgan here needs your help” supplied Cameron, “He has monsters under his bed.”
Morgan sat quiet as could be while taking small bites out of his own cookie - but his wide eyes were securely fastened onto the intimidating girl as he payed close attention to what was happening.
“That is a tricky one. I can rig up some traps for you; that’ll do it” offered Caitlin.
“You don’t understand: his room’s on the fourth floor.”
“What difference does ... Oh! I see. And you think I can help?”
“Being terrified is rough stuff on a kid, So I’m hoping to show him that monsters are usually just as scared as he is” confided Cameron, “You: are his foray into the bigger world of addressing fears.”
“That’s asking a lot!”
“Not really, you already know what he’s scared of, try telling him what you’re scared of.”
“That’s a bad idea!”
“I don’t think so, because from your body language, I’d say you’re afraid of our young friend here.”
“Well ... yeah, there’s that. I don’t want to hurt a little kid!”
“So, by keeping yourself distant, you’re protecting them from the big bad. Right?”
“That’s not a nice way of putting it.”
“But that’s the idea isn’t it?” deduced Cameron, “How about this for a proposition: I suggest we tell each other our deepest secret, that way - no-one has a reason to be scared of the other.”
“Now I’m sure it’s a bad idea!” rebuffed Caitlin.
“You might be right” admitted Cameron, “How does this sound. Why don’t we share our happiest memory instead?” bartered Cameron.
“I’ll do it,” came a small voice from Morgan who hadn’t piped in yet, he squirmed in his seat before starting. “Mom and I visited the park and I got to play hide and seek in the big trees with a bunch of kids, Mom let me feed bird seed to ducks in the pond. I got to play in a huge playground with swings and slides and monkey bars an … I got to spend the whole day with Mom, just me an her. She even took me for ice cream … she said she would always love me. That was the day she told me I was being sent here. I guess it was my best and worst day.” Looking up Morgan sniffed then asked “Did I get that right?”
Cameron nodded his head yes, then took the initiative, “My family was sitting around breakfast, I had made pancakes and Mom cooked the bacon – she always did it perfect so it was just turning crisp ... nothing better than perfect bacon.”
“You got that right” inserted Caitlin.
“We were camping, the day was looking to be beautiful, we laughed a lot and ... we were a family. I couldn’t have been happier” concluded Cameron.
Caitlin had her head held low and continued in that position a long time before she started to speak. “I rode my bike down to the creek, just me and my dog ‘Kip’. We splashed in the water and he chased the sticks I’d throw. We were sitting on the bank drying off in the sun, and I had my arm draped over him, and … he licked my face ... It was the first time I knew someone loved me.”
Cameron took a cookie and invited each to grab a side, they broke it into three and shared it between themselves.
When Cameron and Morgan were leaving, Morgan wrapped his arms around the intimidating girl, resulting in Caitlin ever so gently placing a hand on his head and ruffling the boys hair.
As the two climbed the stairs Outlook said to the young boy, “You’re one of the bravest people I know. You faced your fear today - and scared off a monster.”
Arriving back at the kitchen, Morgan and he cleaned up the mess they had made and Cameron did some straightening up. The three other munchkins returned and Cameron warmed the remaining cookies for the four to share.
Mrs Cantrel wheeled near to Cameron and asked, “Did you get a lot accomplished today?”
From across the room came the answer spoken by Caitlin as she leaned against the door frame, arms folded and looking tough: “He did more than you could ever know.” And with that she turned and walked away.
“Then consider yourself released for today. Will we see you tomorrow?” asked the housemother.
“You’ll have to make the request to Mr Duncan, he’s overseeing my detention” bowed Cameron in reply as he took his leave.
Looking at the time, he felt badly that it was now too late to attend today’s dancing lesson, he’d had a lot of fun the other night. But detention wouldn’t allow him to skip out and attend the Saturday afternoon event, at least until he was released from his bond anyway.
Mediwihila Village : October 21, 2007.
“Oberon: I have counted only sixty and two surviving Were with us, surely there is more?”
“Let us hope the latest patrol finds such and brings these to join us.”
“How did this come to be? Had there not been thousands of Were in the villages” complained Arictevis, a seasoned lieutenant whose fresh battle wound ran clear down the full left half his face.
“I fear the decree from the Seven Courts was all encompassing - the command to ‘kill all Were’ must have run beyond just the war camps: carried afield to all lands beneath their sway” surmised the battle captain Oberon.
“Why would the Courts turn upon us, had we not given our allegiance to the Sidhe queens, shed blood in their battles, sacrificed lives to appease their ends, has not this war become our own?”
“We are sworn - our word was given, our brothers joined into battle. Such was our vow - this is our binding. But now that the a-cursed foe forged a great dark blade, our own brethren get consumed by the enemy when facing it, our very flesh yields to the darkness and fights against us. This alone has changed the tide of war.”
“The rumour bears true! The enemy is us” moaned Arictevis.
“Sadly: as Were fall - he rises anew with a dark heart. Dark’s forces are turning the mighty Were into puppets dancing a monsters bidding.”
"The Sidhe! Certainly the pact of alliance beholds upon them still! Be they not our protectors?” Arictevis exclaimed.
“Aunghadhail herself signed the decree, ‘All Were must die, or the war is lost’. I heard the words myself from the crier’s mouth. The battle front was but a league north, yet the soldiers slew every Were within swords reach. My escape was possible only in fox form and still narrowly did I away” confirmed Oberon.
“Oberon! See! A patrols return, alas only three come with - hold! One is not of us” alerted Arictevis.
A figure was hidden under hood and cloak made featureless by a robes folds, carrying only a walking stick. Approaching the two leaders till well within ear he spake,“I bring no harm, warriors borne, instead I offer relief: mayhap’s in time release, to ye who are shorn.”
“We’ve no interest in riddles” chided Arictevis.
“I cannot speak plainly for the future comes in waves, not placid waters” replied the robe.
“Be you a mystic?” sought Oberon.
“Nay, I am only a voice, sent to present a choice” came from the robe.
“We are a people done, our choice is die tonight or on the morrow” decried Arictevis.
“Not so! True this war is assuredly at end. But when next the courts rise and grow, Were will once more play a role. With open sky and room for it - what is now small will become great as does a foal” spake the robe.
“You offer us escape from destiny?” queried Oberon the brave.
“Life is what you make of it. But a door is open to escape this wraith” at which he pointed to a shimmering portal. “Choose your path” offered the robe.
“What is the price?” Oberon questioned.
“Among your men a farsighted Pantheress shall rise bonding a golden eyed man. By them, Were shall know freedom like waters from a burst dam. Keep your senses at the ready, the earth itself shall become unsteady” answered the robe.
Another sleepless night held Eloise captive. It was three in the morning, and now the Mediwihila’s chief had finally succumbed to pacing the floor in the kitchen, wracking her brain, replaying - lord knows how many times this night alone: the legend of the Golden Eyed Man. She worried how many deviations had crept in over its retelling, handed down generation to generation. Was she perhaps unawares of some key to unraveling the mystery?
Being Chief of her people, Eloise was the one looked to - expecting she’d have all the answers … She wished she hadn’t been nominated for the position when her mother stepped down after a long tenure as Chief, but it had become tradition for a Panther to be leader: in keeping with legend.
Eloise sighed: it was her sister Teresa who was getting trained and expected take up the Chiefs mantle, she had the gift of foresight after all. Great expectations had been placed upon Teresa as the promised fulfiller of legend. To break the binding vow given by the Were’s to the old courts, setting the Were free!
Hopes and expectations rose within the people when Teresa began predicting future events. Her tribe, and soon others, proclaimed her as the one prophesied in the oft told and revered legend of the Panther and the Golden Eyed man. Few Were had survived the Sundering, but held within that story was the future every Were dreamed would come.
Eloise had still been but a cub when mother had counselled with the Were leaders, and a search was taken-up to find a golden eyed man. They found one such among the Eagle people, and a marriage was hastily arranged along with a celebration touting the legends fruition. But Theresa rejected the position of saviour, tried to convince the elders and anyone who’d listen - she wasn’t the one.
Eloise’s tears welled up as she remembered that morning long ago in their house: the arguments and shouting still stung. Teresa pleaded with Mom to stop the wedding, that they’d been wrong - she wasn’t who they wanted … needed her to be.
Teresa rejected the Eagle at the marriage ceremony and ran away that day, never to return. Not that she could return: Teresa Donner had been banished and forbidden to walk among the Were: forever labeled an Outcast.
Eloise as a young girl, had cried when she found out Teresa was no longer her sister. Love is not a tap you can just close. Years later, a traveling Were had crossed paths with Teresa and gave a report to Eloise on what had become of her sister. Despite her responsibilities as Chief: Eloise wished Terry happiness.
With a sigh, Eloise took a seat at the table as the weight of hindsight now rested on her shoulders. If looking behind felt like a burden, she wondered how her sister - and now also her niece, could possibly carry the knowledge of tomorrow.
Teresa had been right! She wasn’t the Panther the legend promised would come. It was actually Teresa’s daughter: The Were had cast out their future.
How do you repair a bridge burnt over twenty years ago?
How do you rebuild hope within a broken people?
The appearance of Cameron Burke at Whateley had been a lightening bolt from out of the blue. ‘Golden Eyes that light the way’ went a song about the legend. To also learn that Teresa had a daughter was just as great a shock. But discovering that Lynn has even stronger foresight…!
The legends pieces had finally begun to fall into place! So why did Eloise feel her world was falling apart?
Had Cameron been evicted from Whateley - or denied entrance, all could have been lost. It was a saving grace that she had been able to intercede and offer hospitality, but last night when she had tried calling yet again to arrange a visit, the boy said he wasn’t able to come to the village yet, ‘On probation’ he claimed.
She didn’t know what his attitude towards the Were might be. By declining the invitation: did the boy perhaps hate them as surely as Lynn must?
Sleep wasn’t possible knowing her efforts had failed: the legend had died.
‘Ring Ring’
Eloise looked with annoyance at the phone sitting beside her, didn’t people sleep anymore? Can’t it wait until morning?
‘Ring Ring’
Seeing as she was up anyway's, she lifted the receiver: “Eloise Donner here.”
“Hello Eloise. It’s Teresa calling: will you speak with an Outcast?” the introduction caused the Mediwihla tribes Chief to nearly fall off her chair.
“Terry … I, You. How … Yes I will share words with an Outcast” spoke the Chief gathering her senses together enough to hold to tradition.
“Lynn says you need to give Cameron space. He has much to accomplish before he can be of help to the people. Wait for him to approach the tribe, because forcing his hand will only result in driving him away.”
“It has been a long time since the counsel of a seer has been heard by the people.”
“Be ready to answer his call for help.”
“Is he the one the legend speaks of?”
“He is everything you could hope for, and nothing like you’d expect.”
“When will Lynn reveal herself to the people?”
“Good night Eloise, Sleep well.” Bade Terry just before the phone was disconnected.
Beck Library: Monday, October 22, 2007
Cameron sat at his usual alcove in the library, the partitioned workstations gave privacy to allow for studying - although at mid day he was the sole occupant save for the librarian: Miss Henderson.
The on-line courses allowed Cameron to progress at his own pace, the distance learning school had teachers available to answer questions and tutor him when needed, and once he’d finished a course he had arranged with Miss Henderson to act as proctor during his exams.
“What subject are you working on today?” Asked the librarian as she wheeled a cart loaded with books past his desk.
“English: I’ve been assigned to write an essay describing the difference between a translation and a transliteration” supplied Cameron as he adjusted his laptops screen from the fuzz he used into readable text for Miss Henderson to observe, “Do you know of a good example I could quote from?”
“The most translated book would be the Bible, but you’d have to speak with Reverend Englund as to the best versions. I know he keeps several copies in his offices at Dillon Chapel.”
“That could prove problematic, and religion is always contentious so it may not be ideal. How about an ethnic cookbook?”
“Excellent suggestion! I learned to make Sushi last year and used a cookbook written by a famous Japanese chef, it’s just the thing you need. Wait a moment and I’ll get it for you.”
Cameron noted the cart left beside him, it was full of a wide assortment of books, the only thing in common about them seemed to be that they were all in poor condition.
Miss Henderson returned with the cookbook in hand and handed it to him “If you want to sign it out, I’ll be over at my desk.”
“Thank you” replied Cameron with a warm smile taking the book from her, “Um. Miss Henderson, what are you doing with these books?” He asked pointing to the loaded cart.
“I’m gathering up a shipment of books to send to a bindery to make repairs, some of these are irreplaceable, but are showing their age” informed the Librarian.
“I could help you with that, I mean - you’ve been so accommodating, It’s the least I can do.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m more familiar with which books are most in need of help.”
“No, you don’t understand. I can repair them for you.”
The lady looked at the boy with a curious expression, but eventually looked down into her cart and withdrew an old tattered hardbound book and handed it over to Cameron. She then looked on as he quickly ran his thumb across the pages.
“Hmm! Atticus Finch; interesting character, reminds me of my guardian Mike - maybe it’s because he’s a lawyer too.”
“Ohh! You’ve read To Kill a Mockingbird?”
It took a second to digest the question “That’s what this book is, isn’t it?”
“Are you telling me you just read it now?”
“Did I say that?”
“It sure sounded like it!”
“Well … yes: I did just read it - while making some repairs” handing the refurbished book back to her.
“Cameron! Do you realize that this book is a first edition printing” she yelled as she inspected it.
“Sssshh!” he replied and pointed to the sign saying ‘Quiet Please’.
“Explain this!” was said with a hand on her hip, and the other holding the book towards him, “This book looks like it just came off the press!”
“You’re not happy?” inquired the boy.
The lady was stymied for a moment, “Of course I’m happy. It’s just … How?”
“The ‘How’ is - that all matter is energy, I restore stuff by renewing the molecular bonds and adding more material as needed.”
“And you can do this for all my books?” She said while giving the vast library a sweeping glance.
“How about a cart a day? Deal?”
“Absolutely!”
“Alright you lot, listen up: todays work assignments will be …” with that introduction Moire handed out work assignments to the less than enthused detention recipients. Cameron was to fill potholes in the school’s paved pathways - for the second day in a row. He collected the hand tools and a wheelbarrow and went into the yard to get some asphalt patching material.
As he was heading out with his load Jinn caught up with him.
“Hey Outlook! Can I ask you something?” she called as she floated over to him.
“What’s up?”
“Are you avoiding Billie?”
“Not on purpose, Our paths don’t cross often.”
“You trying to be funny again?” she tsk’ed, and gestured toward his full wheelbarrow of patching material for the paths.
“Not much to laugh about, so no.”
“Billie was really sad on Saturday after dance class, it took me all weekend to finally get her to open up and tell me what was wrong. She really wants to enter the dance contest.”
“She should; she’s very good.”
“You DOLT! She needs a partner.”
“Ah!” as the figurative light bulb lit above in the youth “And you think I’m a likely candidate?”
“Pfft! You’ve got no clue do you?”
“Apparently not.”
“Its because the Section 33 label scares everyone away.”
“Okay, I’ll bite: what’s a Section 33?” questioned Cameron then asked “It’s not because she’s unstable: is she?”
“Anyone who picks a fight with her risks expulsion.”
“Why isn’t everybody a Section 33?”
“That’s … that’s a good question. Anyway: She can be dangerous so the Section 33 is to prevent brainless wonders from doing something stupid like getting hurt, or worse.”
“I think my idea sounds rather reasonable.”
“Now’s not the time to debate that.”
“How’s Thursday after dinner?”
“What?”
“Would that be a good time to have a debate?”
“What about Billie?”
“Sure, she can come - but we’ll need a fourth, otherwise it won’t be even sides.”
“No! Grrr … Are you going to ask Billie to be your dance partner or what?”
“If I say no is the debate off the table?”
“Yes … no. I don’t know.”
“No fair having an argument with yourself!”
“It’s people like you what cause unrest.”
“Try a glass of warm milk.”
“For what?”
“To help you get to sleep.”
“I don’t have a problem falling asleep.”
“So Billie doesn’t snore then?”
“No. She’s quiet as a mouse.”
“Good. Then I should ask her to be my dance partner.”
Crystal Hall
From his vantage point: the table on the second terrace in Crystal Hall, Outlook scanned the mass of students below. So far he’d been able to establish what each type of energy signature matched to types of ability. Now he’d been working on sorting those individual power groups into levels. He was also toying with ideas on what would be the best method to neutralize the different abilities.
For dinner he’d had a big slice of lasagna and a fresh salad, it wasn’t on the buffet menu so he’d kept his distance to prevent curiosity from exposing his retrieving food from out of Storage. He looked over to Team Kimba’s table and most of them had already finished eating and dispersed: leaving only Jade, Toni, and Billie who was on her third helping of food - My! That girl could eat.
Cameron carefully made his way over to the table so as to not attract attention and asked the occupants “Mind if I sit for a minute?”
Toni replied “Take a load off.”
The nervous boy then asked “How is everyone tonight?”
“We have a sim in under an hour, we’re up against team Phoenix” responded Jade almost gleeful at the prospect.
“A sim is a staged fight … correct?” questioned Cameron.
“Do you live under a rock or sumpthin?” boggled Toni.
“I’ll take ‘lives under a rock’ for 200 Alex” mocked Cameron.
Jade chuckled, but Billie kept her head down remaining focused upon her plate.
“So you’ve not joined a combat team yet?” questioned The Chaka.
“I’ve no interest in fighting people, hurting someone isn’t what I want on my conscience” remarked Cameron.
“You’re not one of those ‘The meek shall inherit the earth’ freaks, are you?” scoffed Toni.
“I think you’ve confused weakness and meekness: Being meek means having the strength of conviction to do what’s right - despite the consequences. A weak person simply follows whatever everyone else does - because it’s easier to just go with the flow rather than have the courage to hold an opinion and take a stand.”
“But if you’re strong enough nobody will challenge you” chimed in Jade.
“There’s always someone stronger, faster, smarter. You just up-the-ante by becoming a hurdle for them to overcome.”
“So you’ll just let people walk all over you” summarized Toni.
“Only a bully resorts to forcing their will onto others. I feel sorry for those who cave in to whatever whims a tyrant demands - including debasing themselves to only satisfy a bully’s ego” informed Outlook.
“You think it’s okay to let the bad guys beat you up?” quizzed Jade.
“There are many ways to defeat someone, not all rely on being a brute - or diminishing your self respect by having to resort to the dead end thinking and emotional void of someone who can’t work out their problems in a civilized way.”
“I’d rather have everyone know not to mess with me: I’m likely the best martial artist ever!” boasted Chaka.
“Does that define who you are? A fighter! Tell me; who are you when you’re not fighting somebody?” asked Cameron.
“I’m Toni Chandler.”
“And what’s going to make Toni happy once she’s bested all others?”
“What are you getting at?”
“A weapon is useless when left sitting on a shelf - when the war is over, what good is it?”
“It acts as a deterrent.”
“Are you saying people should fear you?”
“Well … sure, being the Champ means nobody threatens you.”
“So where in the life of a ‘Champ’ does love and happiness fit in?”
“You don’t think a warrior is capable of having a happy life?”
“I would say a warrior tends to treat life like a battle, every aspect boils down to expecting a fight, peace is no longer an option since he has dedicated himself to the far end of the spectrum … it eventually consumes him. The fighting only really stops when he’s dead.”
“That’s a very narrow view” admonished Toni. Both Jade and Billie gave Cameron a quick glance while they smiled knowingly over the comment about how someone who could see nearly everything had a narrow view. However their lack of endorsement raised Toni’s ire; “What? You think he’s right?”
“I’m beginning to think violence only winds up getting you more violence” added Billie, the first she’d said since Cameron had sat down. “Everyone focuses on how to beat you, and it escalates from there. Look at how Bardue keeps throwing tougher and more destructive stuff at me.”
“He’s just trying to hone your skill” advised Chaka.
“Sharpening the edge of a sword?” commented Cameron.
“You think it’s bad to protect yourself?” doubted Toni.
“Self preservation is commendable, but where do the lines stop before you start encroaching upon others - that is a dangerous path to take” advised Cameron.
“Bullying! You’re saying someone could become a bully … if fighting is their focus?” interjected Jade into the conversation.
“All I’m saying is: maybe try finding something else to do with your life, before all you amount to is a tarnished trophy” advised Outlook.
“I’m done with this nonsense” retorted Toni, picking up her tray and leaving the table, not really so much in anger - but still dealing with a head of steam, knowing she has some deep thoughts to contemplate.
“I’ll stand up to anyone that wants to hurt me … or my friends” countered Jade “but I won’t pick a fight.”
“How about you Billie: do you have a warriors heart?”
It took a moment for the girl to check her heart “Fighting carries consequences, that much I’ve learned, but I don’t like the thought of hurting … or killing someone” admitted Billie.
“This coming from the most powerful person on campus?” wondered Cameron.
“I doubt that” said Tennyo in a display of modesty.
“Honestly: you are the most perplexing student here. I cannot determine what your abilities are since nobody else is anything like you” revealed Outlook.
“Thats my Onesan! One of a kind” smiled Jade.
“I’m nothing special” mumbled Billie, shrinking in on herself and not meeting the boy’s eyes across the table from her.
“With that I must disagree, there’s no-one else I’d rather enter the dance contest with” stated Cameron giving Billie a curious glance, waiting for a reply.
The poor girl nearly choked, “Seriously?”
“In all seriousness, would you be my dance partner? I’m not very good and can be accused of having poor rhythm and no talent, but I’ll do my best to make you look good.”
“How can you say no to that?” inserted Jade.
“I don’t know?” hemmed Billie.
“Billie!” nearly shouted Jade.
“Alright, partners” she offered her hand, and they shook in agreement “Now who could we possibly convince to help us?” she asked, tapping her chin all the while looking directly at her roommate and best friend.
Cameron smiled at the set-up but leaned toward the girl bouncing in anticipation, and asked anyway “Jade, you wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might be interested?”
“I thought you’d never ask” she said with a blush in her cheeks, “I’ve got some fantastic ideas for costumes!” She bubbled. Jade’s mischievous grin was setting off all sorts of alarm bells.
The trio sat swapping their favourite songs to begin figuring out what might work as potential dances.
Hawthorne Cottage Saturday, November 3, 2007
The way Mr Duncan had explained it, Mrs Cantrel over at Hawthorne Cottage begged to have Cameron back for another day of detention duties. Whatever the reason for it, Outlook approached the cottage’s front door and braced himself for whatever would get thrown at him.
Mrs Cantrel meet him as he entered, and she seemed genuinely pleased to have him there, but - she had a shopping list of ‘to-do’s’ ready for Cameron. It contained a plethora of broken or damaged stuff, ranging from splintered handrails to leaking plumbing: a veritable A to Z compilation. It would seem his secret was out and now he’d be beset by demands to fix everything.
Running down the list he noticed that several complaints centred on the stairs, so that was where he began. He slowly made his way up one set then down another, replenishing the worn treads, stopping boards from squeaking, renewing the finish and smoothing out any imperfections in the woodwork.
When tackling the issues surrounding the hot water heating system throughout the building, he started at the boiler then began to rejuvenate the piping and improving the heat transfer in the radiators. Some of the dormitory rooms had complex environmental controls which interfered with his ability and meant he couldn’t just complete the work from the hallway. In-order to get access he had to knock on doors to gain entrance.
One room housed an interesting girl named Puppet who had acid for blood and had to live in a special biosphere. She was friendly enough, and as they spoke for a short time it was obvious she enjoyed company - but understandable why not many could visit her. Cameron put on as many layers of protection he could think of in order to safely be in her room. However, coming away from there Cameron saw how hard mutation had impacted some.
So far, he’d had little resistance from his interactions with the cottage’s tenants, a few even said hello without hesitation - but some did complain about his presence and whispered comments of being a ‘pretty’. From Cameron’s past experience of being a girl, getting called pretty was a compliment, now it felt like an insult, wasn’t handsome the acceptable term to call a guy?
He was almost done with the chores, but there was still a problem with the heating, and it seemed to be located at this last room. Looking inside it seemed to be the most wonky of environments, but there was no caution posted, so Cameron knocked on the door and entered when hearing a ‘come in’. He hadn’t even finished a step when he dropped like a stone onto the floor - unable to move.
Laying there, pressed hard against the floor. He heard laughter. He should have known something was up when there had been a congregation of kids standing in the hall watching him and snickering.
Cameron tried to assess what had happened: Gravity! Gravity was several times greater in here. Looking across the room, sitting at a desk was a little person, at least that’s what he remembered you should call a midget - or dwarf. The furniture in here was extra heavy duty as it was big and blocky, the chair legs looked to be made from four by fours. The guy at the desk turned to look at him and gave an exasperated sigh.
“Can’t you read? The sign on the door says danger!”
“No … sign …” gasped out Cameron.
“Oh for pity sakes” he exclaimed in frustration, “I’m too busy for this nonsense. Can’t you clowns find some other way to pester the newbie’s than to annoy me?” he called out to his cottage mates. “It’s going to take five minutes to drop gravity levels before this mess can be scraped off the floor!” he complained.
Pacing his breath he got out “This mess is named Outlook” panting hard he continued “I’d offer to shake your hand but…”
“Save it” stated the extremely compacted guy, “I could have done without the disruption.”
“Sorry.”
“Not as much as you’re going to be! Doyle’s going to have to check you over. Imagine decompression bends from deep sea diving” he tsk’ed, “My neighbours don’t seem to understand that this isn’t a game.”
“Just about there” stated Cameron breathing with a touch of relief.
“Waddaya mean?”
“I’ve nearly compensated for it” was relayed as Cameron began to shift himself about.
The squat figure began to take an interest and bent to get a better - closer look at the kid sprawled on his floor. “Hmm, Too skinny to be super strong, and doesn’t look like an exemplar - so not a build up of physical resistance.”
Cameron was at the point where he could push himself off the floor and get onto his knees. At this height he was a couple inches taller than the rooms occupant who was looking at him with unabated curiosity.
“I always thought of gravity as a friend” confided Cameron, “I had never tried absorbing its energy before, it’s taken awhile to figure it out.” Remaining on his knees as it seemed to relax his observer, “Outlook” was offered along with his hand.
The handshake was the strongest one he’d ever encountered, Buck was a featherweight in comparison, and Roche didn’t even qualify. He had to reset some dislocated bones after the crushing handshake.
“Dr. Heavy” was given as an introduction.
“Doctor? Wasn’t there something about not using titles in code names.”
“I really am a doctor” was supplied, “You’re not one of us are you?”
“Sorry, I don’t understand the context of ‘us’”.
“A Thornie, you don’t live in Hawthorne?”
“No, I don’t.”
That gave the youth pause, his body language spoke of being uncomfortable.
“I’ve been given detention, and was just trying to get the heat to work” provided Cameron as an explanation.
“With no tools?” Heavy said after assessing the kid, “What did you do?”
“To fix the heat, or get detention?”
“Detention!”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. My choice was do this or get delivered to the MCO by Mrs Carson.”
The look of shock on Heavy’s face was gratifying, and his acceptance was growing as he stood more relaxed.
“I take it you’re not fond of the MCO either?” questioned Cameron.
“Isn’t every mutant?”
“It’s beginning to sound like it.”
“What’s with the glasses?”
“People get freaked by my eyes.”
“Can I?” asked Dr. Heavy - indicating he wanted to be shown.
“As long as you promise not to run away screaming - or worse: start reciting Brass Monkey lyrics” added Cameron to the boys growing smile, Outlook removed the visor, which looked like reflective safety glasses, to reveal the golden glow emanating from his eyes.
“You know: you’ll fit in better around here if you don’t wear those; you could pass for a pretty otherwise, actually I’m surprised you’re not a Thornie.”
“Thanks … I think, I forget I have them on at times. Mind explaining a ‘pretty’?”
“A non-GSD mutant, there’s so many exemplar’s at Whateley - it makes anyone who isn’t gorgeous stand-out worse.”
“The bar for what’s normal is skewed by the extremes found here?”
“We came in hopes of finding acceptance …”
“Only to be shown how far from being pretty you’ve become.”
“Yeah!” he added as his head lowered and a frown formed.
“Let me guess: other students are sent to Hawthorne as punishment - like banishment, having to associate with the rejects.”
“It’s like a slap-down to us every time” was conceded.
“I’m so sorry - I didn’t know.”
“Its obvious by what you’ve been doing around here to help that you’re not just putting in time - you care. So, nothing to be sorry about” gifted the youth, “You can call me Lester.”
“I’m Cameron: if you keep it hush-hush” was granted, “Very nice to meet you Les. It isn’t often I meet someone famous.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know: 10 items or Less. Every grocery store has a check-out lane especially for you” was said with barely a straight face.
“Greatness has its privileges” came with a smile. “What’s wrong with the heat?” asked Les.
“Pretty simple when you think about it. The high gravity is stopping the flow of water, I’ll have to let maintenance know they need extra pumps to overcome it” informed Cameron, “at least the problem is solved - I’d better go and let Mrs Cantrel know.”
“I need to see her too, I’ll come with you.”
As they walked down the stairs Dr Heavy actually floated as it was easier for his short legs. And it was Les that got Mrs Cantrel’s attention while she was having a difficult time maneuvering her wheelchair around furnishings in the main floor common room.
“Mrs Cantrel, Outlook was hit by my rooms gravity. He should get checked at Doyle.”
“Are you hurt?” questioned the lady.
“It’s okay, I’ll have some bruises, but no injuries … I self heal.”
“You’re a regenerator?” she asked.
“No ma’am” the look of unease on the den mothers face indicated a need for further convincing, “Dr Tenant is aware of my ability to help healing.”
“As long as you are certain …”
“I’ll be fine, honest” he interjected.
“I should let your house parent know to keep an eye on you” she reasoned.
“Perhaps if you called maintenance to let them know, they may have to do a safety report. Oh! And tell them that the heat pumps need to be bigger to overcome the gravity in Heavy’s room” suggested Cameron.
Mrs Cantrel looked frustrated by her limited mobility in the wheelchair, Les caught it too and said, “I’m sorry Mrs Cantrel, I haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong with your chair.”
“Don’t blame yourself Lester, it’s a devise. My asking you to look at it was a long shot at best.“
“Still haven’t been able to locate the student who made your hover-chair?” quizzed Dr Heavy.
“No Lester, not yet … you know antigravity: tricky business, Gravimetric hasn’t returned my calls”.
“I’d like to help, but I’m a scientist not a mechanic.”
“Excuse me” interrupted Cameron, “perhaps if I could take a look at your chair, I might be able to repair it.”
“No. It’s a devise, only its builder can make it work” stated the dejected housemother.
“It couldn’t hurt to let him try, maybe I could be of help too” suggested Dr Heavy.
“Alright boys” relinquished the woman “Could you give me push to my apartment?”
The housemother found a safe position in her rooms and sipped a cup of tea, watching the two who began removing panels and commenced a conversation that sounded like techno-babble-rap as they delved into the inner workings of the devise. After periods of debate, components seemed to appear from no-where; then got refitted into the chairs recesses. After almost an hour the boys stood and shared congratulatory handshakes.
“Mrs Cantrel, you now have a working chair again, and we made a few small alterations, would you like to try it out?” offered Dr Heavy, to which she eagerly agreed.
Lester picked up Mrs Cantrel and then floated her into the rebuilt ‘hover-chair’. Turning it on, the chair rose as usual but without the previous hum it generated. Trying the controls the occupant made sounds of surprise and excitement.
“Boys: this is fantastic! It is so much more responsive … I won’t be bouncing off the walls anymore.”
“We deconstructed the devisor parts that had failed and rebuilt them” described Outlook.
“This is going to be revolutionary, I’ll be working for months designing antigravity systems” boasted Heavy.
“Thank you so much! It’s like being set free” rejoiced the housemother.
“Feels good doesn’t it” agreed Cameron reflecting on his time without use of legs.
“You’re good to go young man” smiled the lady, “Will you be back?”
“Ask for me at Maintenance” relayed the boy.
The Quad: Friday Morning, November 16, 2007
Cameron needed to take a breather after having dispensed so much energy - and effort.
Giving himself a moment to rest, Cameron mentally played back the dance routine that he, Billie and Jade had been working upon, how each step needed to be timed to match the music’s tempo. Last night while rehearsing over at the dance studio, they had sought to implemented a few changes and those hadn’t flowed seamlessly into the routine yet.
Also last night, Jade had described the costumes she was putting together … Cameron was glad Billie had put her foot down early on and kiboshed Jade’s ideas about dancing furries - it might look cute but those outfits would be heavy, hot to wear, and restrict movement. Not that Jade gave up without a fight, she flashed her ‘sad puppy dog eyes’ at them and if Billie hadn’t already built up an immunity to them … it made Cameron shudder.
Cameron relaxed against the bottom edge of the hexagonal obelisk he’d just fashioned. It had seemed such a waste to let all that stray energy wafting about this place just disperse and not make use of it. He’d constructed an energy collector which now stood almost eighteen feet high and consisted of six sides, each facet gathering a different type of ambient energy.
It was situated almost directly overtop of the schools power plant, which exuded much excess energy. This spot had been Cameron’s favourite resting place on campus, where he could just have a sit and soak in energy, but now the collector could gather it all the time, his plan was to come by every couple days and drain the battery as needed.
Cameron had fashioned his creation to pass as a sculpture, and had asked Mr. Duncan what the procedure might be to place an ‘artistic’ feature on the grounds. He’d first said ‘Cameron would have to go through Mrs Carson, who would then present it to the Trustee’s - who would set up a committee to debate about it, then a review panel would be called up to assure it had sufficient merit, then a study conducted before it could ever proceed … It was about then that Mr Duncan smiled at the boy over his desk and told him: “On the other hand: its easier to ask forgiveness than permission.” he finished with a wink.
Cameron checked his battery and it was replenishing what he’d expended, due to all the work he was tasked with rarely did the gauge get over half, and then the ‘Eureka moment’ hit, when you find that piece of the puzzle that fits everything together perfect, he could visualize the dance steps that would tie the routine nicely together.
From above came the call “Ahoy!” and then surprisingly beside him alighted a girl. She was slightly built but with fine features, and most strikingly she had long green hair exaggerated by the green exercise outfit she wore. The overload of green played tricks on his sight, but what really set Cameron off balance were the odd energy balls on tethers that circled around her.
“Blisterin barnacles, a salty pirate!” he replied as he stood, he’d seen this girl before in Crystal Hall but they’d never spoken.
“I’ll gut ya like a fish if that’s some kinda jab about my hair!“ she warned.
“Just trying to keep to the nautical theme you started with.”
“I was only giving you a heads up … blubber brain.”
“Arrr, she’s run me thru with her sharp tongue.”
“That’s what any scallywag deserves for laying claim to my booty!” was said as she leaned against the black hexagon beside them.
“I’ve never touched your illustrious booty!” replied Cameron with a mischievous smirk.
The green themed girl almost choked when she realized the double meaning of what she’d said. The look of embarrassment was bemusing “An you’ll be keeping it that way less'n ya want ta be sportin a hook!” she warned shaking a fist at his face.
“Forewarned is forearmed” humoured Cameron as he rotated his open right hand between them.
She looked at him with mild surprise before stating “That was actually a pretty clever comeback for a freshie.”
“I’m a root beer kinda guy.”
“What?”
“If I want a pop I’ll get root beer instead of a freshie.”
The blank look he received was complimented by a well imagined “Huh?”
“Pop … a soda: carbonated beverage?” furthering that thought, “Back home we have a type of ‘pop’ called Freshie.”
“You are a sad strange little kid.”
“Hey! I’m almost as tall as you. Not counting the hair.”
“Couldn’t leave the hair alone, could you?”
“Consider it envy.”
“Okay then” she stopped seemingly satisfied for a second, but then “wait a minute, green with envy! You’re walking on eggshells pal.”
“Green eggs?”
“Oh - you are just too funny” she rebuked with sarcasm.
“Well, I have been accused of having a heightened sensitivity about my size.”
“To make up, maybe I should throw another shrimp on the barby.”
“Alert the media; banter isn’t dead.”
“Abisinthe” she offered with an extended hand.
“Outlook” he replied shaking the given hand, “You felt the need to climb this?” he asked giving his creation a prideful pat.
“I was scouting a Parkour route for a run I’m to lead, this could be a great obstacle.”
“Hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“You made this?”
“Yep.”
“What’s it do?”
“Its art, it doesn’t have to do anything.”
“I don’t get it” she said flatly, “It looks like a six sided climbing wall.”
“Art should challenge a person to look at life from different perspectives.”
“That’s why it has six sides?”
“You do get it.”
“Not really, but I’m sure it’ll be fun to climb.”
“I guess I should take that as a compliment. Art can mean different things to different people. It was supposed to spark your imagination! But I hadn’t thought anybody would want to climb it.”
“Why not? I imagined climbing it” Abisinthe moved over to the wall and ran her hand over it, “Every side has a different texture - its like a whole new challenge to get up each face.”
“Now that you mention it …”
“Right! And if there was a couple handholds here and there it would be a great place to practice on.”
“If you show me where, I can try adding some extra bumps and such.”
Abisinthe literally jumped at the chance, and began scaling the wall in-front of them: when she had to pause and seemed stymied on how to proceed, Cameron made an alteration to the surface.
The girl cast a suspicious eye upon him, her look hinting that she was uncertain about this guy. Somehow he managed to make handholds form at will, one-second: nothing … next a good place to grip so she could continue her ascent. This was done to each facet. Climbing down to the ground beside Outlook, the green themed girl looked back in wonder.
“Talk about weird. How’d you do that?”
“How is it that you have all these little things floating around you?”
“It’s what I do.”
“Same for me.”
“So: what’s it made of?” she asked, looking at his ‘masterpiece’.
“It’s an amalgamation of metals and polymers.”
“And it changes colour because?”
“What do you mean?”
“See! Here where I touch it, it goes from black to almost white.”
“That’s interesting: I hadn’t imagined that with direct pressure on it - it would do that. It’s sensitive to energy, so the colour will eventually change - but it’s acting like a mood ring.”
“A what now?”
“Mood ring? A little stone that would change colour when a persons temperature changed - or so I’m told; I never could get Mom’s to work.”
“Cool!”
“Yah, it’ll change then too.”
The girl rolled her eyes in disbelief, then looked at the scrawny kid tilting her head before asking, “You an alien or sum thing?”
“This is the Fourth planet from the sun, isn’t it?”
“Third!”
“Shoot: that means I was off by this much” holding up his right hand as if measuring a distance while looking far off to the left into the sky.
“Better sign up to take astrophysics. Seriously; where are you from?”
“Canada.”
“I knew it! You are an alien.”
“Foreigner, if you please.”
“Hot Blooded.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Foreigner’s greatest hit: Hot Blooded.”
“And here I thought you were hyped at the prospect of meeting a ‘little green man’, it explains your …”
“Ohhh! You are just ‘cruisin for a bruisin’.”
“Speaking of which: Looks like a bruiser out on a cruiser, heading our way” indicated Cameron at the big student coming towards them on the path.
“Jerk alert! Its Centurion.”
“A friend of yours?”
“Look up ‘troglodyte’ in the dictionary.”
“Understood. Your call: what do you want to do?”
“We have a grudge match tomorrow. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s planning on beating me up. Put me in the hospital again so I’d have to forfeit.”
“Might I suggest some vertical separation” mentioned Cameron pointing with a single finger up the wall.
“What about you?”
“Go. If he’s got a hard head, I can be a hard target.” At which Abisinthe climbed out of reach.
The large boy approached nearer - walking with a swagger, taking on a menacing grin when stepping up close, evidently pleased that his presence had provoked Abisinthe.
Building upon his perceived success he spouted: “When are you going to take the hint and leave. The MCO doesn’t belong at this school! Or anyplace else for that matter.”
His sneer was evil and malicious, seemingly taking delight in harassing others by pushing them around. Then too, the brief assessment he made of Cameron was dismissive, so he focused back upon the out of reach girl.
Absinthe had a firm grip over halfway up the wall on a side facing away from the bully affording some protection, she checked to ensure her position was secure before hollering at the brute “You didn’t even know I worked for the MCO when you put me in the hospital!” she accused of him.
“Just made the results more satisfying” he goaded.
“You’re going to regret those words in the arena!” snarked the girl.
“I’m sure you’ll try - and fail” was said in complete disregarding to any potential threat presented to him.“Don’t forget to pack your bags. And have your Will prepared! You won’t be in any kind of shape after the match to do it.”
Cameron was dismayed at the severity of the verbal exchange, these were threats to life and limb, the body posturing was tense and ready to explode, the risk of this exchange coming to violence was extreme. He stepped up between the adversaries “Back away - both of you! Save your fight for this grudge match of yours.”
The tall lump of a menacing boy took a quick glance down his nose at the small in comparison Cameron. He gave a snort of derision, then brought his full attention down from off Abisinthe onto the boy, “As if you could make me do anything. Runt!” he bent forward in an effort to intimidate.
“I’m calling a ‘time out’” informed Outlook in a voice loud enough for both to hear.
Centurion didn’t move: not a twitch or a blink, just stood frozen in place.
Abisinthe looked on in surprise as Cameron walked away from the big goof, and with a sweeping motion indicated for Abisinthe to come down, he then lead her away from the scene. She followed his gentle suggestion and began to walk beside him, looking back occasionally at the unmoving lump.“Is he?”
“Having a couple minutes of quiet time, he isn’t harmed.”
“You didn’t know, did you?” asked Abisinthe, carrying a degree of worry from the revelation during the exchange.
“That Whateley would enrol troglodytes? I’ve encountered them before … he’s certainly a prime specimen.”
“About the MCO?”
“The MCO doesn’t give me warm fuzzies, but you’ve never hurt me. As long as that remains the case, I carry no resentment.”
“That’s fair, and more honest than I’ve come to expect.”
“You don’t by chance turn into a bear do you?”
“Nooo. Why do you ask?”
“Trying to tie up some loose ends is all” remarked Cameron as they parted company.
Arena 99: Sunday, November 18, 2007
Cameron was aghast at the unfolding scenario.
The premise of this match was simple enough: a game of capture the flag, or press the button as the case may be. But … this! He was in shock.
He’d asked during the morning detention assignments if he could do work at Arena 99, where Abisinthe said the grudge match would be today. He was curious what these matches were all about.
Morie figured it was a good idea to put him to work since some of the seats had fallen into disrepair, and eagerly granted the request. The boy had been cleaning up the stands and fixing broken seats until his attention had been drawn down onto the arena floor.
The participants, no - the combatants: this wasn’t any game! It was a battle - pure and simple. It was waged complete with weapons … and explosions. Cameron was certain that was a real sword in Centurion’s hand! This was a no holds barred death match. They wanted to hurt each other … badly: Under the pretence of a friendly competition.
The stunned boy needed to calm himself and remember: it wasn’t his place to interfere, not his war. Neither was he here to police or draw attention to himself … but maybe - just maybe he could right a wrong. He took off his visor and focused his sight upon the central protagonists engaged in battle.
Cameron was unnoticed for the minutes he sat and watched the battle below. He would have liked to be able to hear what was being said, as he could tell they had been conversing. The scene had built to a climax as the stage was set for a showdown between Abistinthe and Centurion; since most others in the match had been restrained or removed from the action. Suddenly the auditorium was filled by the conversation happening within the arena proper.
“So this is going to be three against one?” said Centurion sizing up the situation.
“I thought you liked fighting three against one. I mean, you and your two buddies jumped me from behind and ganged up on me three to one when you put me in the hospital” accused Abisinthe.
“And we should have hurt you more, you’re too stupid to take the hint and leave Whateley … ” stated Centurion.
Outlook was satisfied with the results and returned to his detention duties, letting the chips fall where they may.
Poe Cottage
Billie Wilson meet Cameron at the entrance to Poe Cottage and introduced the housemother: Mrs Horton, Cameron had to suppose she needed to check him over and ensure he wasn’t a troublemaker. Jade joined them after which Cameron was taken down to the cottages basement into a really big dance hall that they could use to practise in.
The three focused on preparing two dances, as the contest application suggested. Trying to settle on just two possible dances had been difficult, as they each had imagined what would be best. The hardest part had been paring all the crazy ideas down to something they all could agree upon, and still have fun.
Billie seemed tireless, and Jade was a constant source of suggestions, corrections - and laughs. She would cast J-team members into clothes to illustrate her idea’s and provide tips for improving the performance.
The three, or was is five … at any rate, they had been at it for a couple hours and Cameron was running out of gas, so they decided a break was in order. Toni had also joined them in the big room, she and another girl had been practicing with quarter staffs in a corner. Hank and Ayla had also come downstairs but had been talking tactics with their attention alternating between Toni and Billie.
Cameron had spotted something interesting moved off to the side, and was taking a look at it, then asked Jade: “Is this a Karaoke machine?”
Jade piped up “Yup, Ayla bought it: his old girlfriend is a siren and I think he was trying to be nice.”
“Do you suppose I could try it out?”
“Let’s ask Ayles“
A normal person would casually walk over to have a conversation, but we’re talking Jade here! She cast Jinn and she zipped over to where the two boys were talking, interrupted them and blurted out the question! Surprisingly this appears to be almost expected behaviour and from the head nod he had no issue.
Jade helped set the machine up, and Cameron scrolled through the songs until finding one he liked. Taking the mic in hand, he hit play. The melody was slow and a hush fell over the room.
Cameron started to sing the touching and emotional lyrics to Micheal Buble’s song ‘Home’.
A girl walked past the door carrying a load of laundry, pausing a second then took-off like a bolt.
Cameron made minor changes to the lyrics, which made the song reflect how much he missed his Mom.
As the song ended, Cameron bowed his head - lost in thought about his family. Toni forced him out of his introspective moment by standing in-front of him and out-right accusing him “You are an evil little twerp, aren’t you!”
Jade couldn’t help but hear the comment and on impulse defended her friend “Hey!”
“Well, you’re no towering amazon yourself” rebuffed Cameron.
“Do you realize everyone in this room now feels like they have to call their families.” Chaka explained “Have you seen what long distance charges cost.”
Looking up Cameron noticed that the room had filled from beyond the few Team Kimba members to at least twenty people, many in the room had tears rolling down their faces, but seeing Ayla sitting on the floor against the wall, his head tucked to his knees; slammed home the fact that he wasn’t the only one missing family.
“I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought … “
“If I had a nickel for every time somebody didn’t think! I’d … I’d have enough change to make a phone call” softened the girl in retrospect seeing the hurt displayed on Camerons face.
Two of the Poe residents stepped forward and Cameron was introduced to Vox and Go-Go. Vox commended him on his singing and asked when he was going to join the siren program. Cameron replied that he would have to think about that.
Vox asked if she could sing, and Cameron gave her the microphone. She choose a song called Blackbird, and the effect of her voice sent chills down his spine.
Cameron silently moved beside Ayla and sat next to him, saying: “I’m sorry: I didn’t consider that someone else could feel as hurt as I do.”
“They say you can’t sing the blues until you’ve experienced sorrow in life. It sounds like you qualify.”
“Thanks. Did you lose your family too?” wondered Cameron.
“I was kicked out when I manifested as a mutant.”
“Ouch! So you can’t talk to your Mom … and my singing opened a bad wound, Sorry.”
“With a name like Goodkind, you’d think we would be both good and kind.”
“Goodkind?” puzzled Cameron.
Ayla prepared himself for the inevitable anger the family name illiceted.
“Do you know a Bruce Goodkind? He sent me a letter of apology which was really heartfelt.”
Ayla was taken aback, certainly not the reaction he’d come to expect, but it did intrigue him deeply.
“You’ve had dealings with my father?”
“Okay, that kinda explains things. You’re Dad’s letter mentioned him having personal experience with a situation like mine.”
“In what way?”
Cameron with his sight had noticed that while Ayla looked like a girl, ‘he’ wasn’t. Revealing secrets is not done lightly, but he’d hurt Ayla, and the look on the mixed up boys face said this was something that needed to be done.
“I was injured and needed a surgery, I became a boy” admitted Cameron.
The double lifted eyebrows gave away Ayla’s emotions.
“Your Dads company made the poisons which altered me.”
“Which ones?”
“Mutant tamer bullets.”
“You lived? I’d heard they killed anyone shot with them.”
“Almost! But it damaged my DNA, everything was moving toward a big legal battle when your father gave me an apology … I guess you influenced his motivation.”
“Any chance I could read it?”
Reaching into his shirt pocket, Cameron withdrew the letter from Cupboard, and pulled out the paper which was three times the length of his pocket, handing it over to Ayla.
“How do you do that?” was asked by Ayla, taking the mysteriously manifested page handed to him.
“Another time” advised Cameron.
Ayla started reading and right off was struggling with his emotions, not only had he recognizing his fathers handwriting, but from the letters frank and candid manner. Cameron could tell just where he was in the text of the letter by how he reacted.
As Ayla finished reading, he sat back and fought a battle to stay in control, he folded the page up and handed it back “My father doesn’t show that side of himself very often. Thank you for sharing it.” Ayla quietly admitted to Cameron.
“Your welcome.”
Cameron and Ayla sat on the floor, each digesting information that had come to light. Vox had sung a few songs during the two’s conversation, but both of them had been preoccupied to notice.
Ayla broke the silence “You going to sing again?”
“I was thinking about it, no more sad stuff thou.”
“Know any Brass Monkey songs?”
“They sound like a bag of cats being hit by a stick.”
“They’re my favourite band!”
“You must be joking? All your friends say you have great taste!”
Moving off the floor and up to have a turn at the karaoke machine, Cameron picked a song he figured everyone would enjoy. Van Halen’s Dance the Night Away is such a happy ditty, he hoped everyone would forgive his previous song.
It was a delight to see nearly everyone who had come to join the impromptu party in Poe’s basement begin dancing, Vox came and harmonized on the vocals with him to make it sound extraordinary.
At songs end, Cameron thanked Vox, but they were interrupted by the clamour for ‘one more’. Checking the playlist Cameron smiled and brought Vox over to see his choice with her saying: ‘nice’.
On cue, the hard driving guitar rift for Boston’s Feelin Satisfied started.
Vox wholeheartedly gave supporting vocals, swaying and clapping to get the room engaged. Toni and Billie came up in-front and began dancing like a couple of groupies, they also encouraged everyone to clap along. The room was filled with dancing and merriment, when it ended Cameron truly did come away 'feeling satisfied'.
Dreamspace
The all encompassing shadow of night had just recently settled upon the little encampment, the small fire set within a circle of stones sent flickers of light which cast dancing shadows across the trampled long grass. A teepee set a distance away reflected part of the fires glow, acting as a beacon across the plains.
Weathered logs placed around the fire pit became seating for the invited guests: Kodiak had arrived first and sat with a huff of displeasure at being called to a gathering he wasn’t presiding over. When Grizzly arrived, she sat beside the gruff bear spirit but didn’t share his displeasure. Also in attendance was Mustang: the horse spirit bonded to Tansy Walcut, and Wihinape the cougar spirit bonded to Danny Franks.
Ptesanwi was making the effort to be a good host by offering ceremonial tea, but it was a futile gesture. None accepted the demeaning formality the hospitality represented among the simple minded humans.
“We’re not humans, easily swayed by folklore and traditions” chuffed Kodiak.
“True enough, but these traditions keep the low born in place, and are a useful tool to gain their trust” rebuffed the Ptesanwi.
“Why do you find it necessary to have us gather in such primitive conditions?”
“Would you have us in some forsaken cave perhaps? Here at least we can see the stars” commented Grizzly as she looked up at the clear night sky.
“It’s only an illusion, and in bad taste since we can’t return to the skys - I find it insulting, almost as much as your demand I come and prostrate myself before you”. spoke the angered and frustrated male bear spirit.
“We need to report on progress, and an accounting about the infiltrator has been requested” advised Ptesanwi.
“It was dealt with!” scowled Kodiak.
“Is that the message you want presented to the Council of Three?” inquired Ptesanwi.
“The Three have an interest?” remarked a surprised Grizzly.
“Indeed! It seems word has circulated about a spy having surfaced, the Three want to be certain it has been … dealt with adequately” informed the Lakota priestess.
Mustang jumped into the conversation, announcing “Grizzly removed the blight!”
“Explain!” required Ptesanwi, indicating Grizzly should give a narrative of the encounter.
“I spotted a new student arriving at the school, when I checked his aura - it was one of the gifted. I drove my meat-sack to intercept and we killed the vermin. I made certain it was dead: I held it’s un-beating heart in my paw! There was no life left within it.”
“Nicely done” commended the shaman.
“It knew to come to Whateley, another will be undoubtedly be dispatched to take its place” cautioned Kodiak. “We might only have six months before a second can be brought into play - even so: that doesn’t give us enough time.”
“Then we must be vigilant and watchful for when another does come, too many resources have been tied to this plan for it to fail” advised the shaman.
“On that we can all agree” Wihinapi added.
“Then we proceed with haste in building the Atlantean League, our leadership among the gene-spliced must be irrefutable” was the conclusion spoken by the shaman.
“Their humanity is proving hard to overwrite” insisted Grizzly.
“Win their hearts, then mind and body follows” said Kodiak with a wink.
(Once a letch always a letch) mused Grizzly.
McFarlane Auditorium: November 30, 2017
No doubt about it: Whateley knew how to throw a party! The auditorium had been transformed from its stark utilitarian appearance into a brightly lit well appointed gathering place, warmly coloured curtains hung covering over bare walls, streamers and floral arrangements strategically placed gave it a grand ambience.
A whole separate room was needed for the refreshments, the kitchen had prepared a veritable bounty with chef’s standing near to their creations in their pure white clothes and tall poofy hats, while many students worked the room as servers identified by the kitchen white attire.
Attendee’s wore lovely flowing gowns, a display of every colour imaginable mingled on the floor interspersed between the black tuxedo’s worn by almost every male present, although a few: like Jericho, didn’t hold to the norm when fashion was concerned. Jericho sported a brilliant white tux with an orange ascot then to further add to the visual assault he wore a purple cumber-bun. Subtlety was not a word found in that boy’s vocabulary. Of course, Razorbacks bright blue tie with yellow polkadots was also a fashion statement - but few if any would call him on it.
The festivities had been going on for a good hour already, the dance floor had attracted a few couples but mostly everyone was satisfied to engage in conversations and sample the culinary delights. At the end of a song, Miss Rodgers moved onto the dance floor into the beam of a bright spotlight.
“Welcome everyone, welcome to Whateley Academies Annual Fall Soiree. It is delightful to see so many lovely young ladies in such beautiful gowns, I am certain the young men with us tonight are overwhelmed by the beauty on display this evening.”
“Tonight, we have a special treat. Members of the dance class will be participating in a dance contest” at mention of this, a table was brought forward and placed centrally beside the dance floor.
“To adjudicate this competition, It is my privilege to introduce our honoured judges. I present to you: The Fabulous Imp!” At the mention of her name, the lady with the horns and devils tail stepped up to the table “Miss Imp has been a life long fan of dancing, and is a self described ‘Dancing with the Stars’ junky.” The ankle length sequinned red dress she wore showed off her curves and the light which was shone onto her added a special dazzle to her appearance as she curtsied.
Moving down the table to present the next judge, Miss Rodgers gave a hand flourish: “Sensei Tatsuo Ito: Whateley’s own Martial Arts instructor, a ballroom dancer of note and winner of multiple dancing contests” The introduced Asian man stepped forward, he gave an polite bow in his black tuxedo and slightly raised his hand in acknowledgement of the greeting. “Ladies! Mr. Ito is looking forward to cutting a rug later tonight. The line starts behind me” added Miss Rodgers.
“And lastly” announced Miss Rodgers as she moved to the last spot at the judges table “It gives me great pleasure to introduce a former semi-professional ballroom dancer, a dear friend, and Hawthorne cottages pride and joy: Mrs Deborah Cantrel” The crowd parted and moving forward in her hover-chair, the Hawthorn cottage housemother was wearing a gorgeous chiffon gown, her chair had similarly coloured ribbons set in loops and swings draped over it, also a splendid bouquet of flowers had been laid across her lap. She gave a rolling wave to the audience, and Cameron heard cheers and whistles coming from the Thornies present.
Addressing everyone in attendance Miss Rodger’s commenced “The rules of tonights contest will be thus: Each dance will be judged based upon merit, the demonstrated skill of the dancers shall be scored upon scale: one the lowest - and ten being highest. The judges will be looking at the interpretation of the music and how each dancer reflects the emotion and rhythm. As an added dimension: Each dance must be identifiable with notable media, be it from film or television.”
Turning to the judges each nodded in acceptance of the rules and their responsibilities. The audience took to applauded and followed Miss Rodger’s direction that all needed to move behind the lines marked on the floor. Once everyone was ready, she next said: “Be ready to be dazzled and amazed.”
It had been determined earlier by straws who would go first, and so after taking their station on the floor to be introduced, the first couple stood in the indicated spot as a spotlight lit revealing them to the eager crowd. Cameron recognized the werewolf looking guy - at almost seven feet tall Harry was kinda hard not to notice. They both wore similar costumes of denim overalls that had holes and patches sewn on, each had plaid checked shirts but while his was blue and white, hers was red and white.
They waited for the big screens to lower at either end of the hall, and when in place a paused scene flashed up from a cartoon Cameron held fond memories of.
In recognition Cameron mumbled “They wouldn’t” in disbelief.
To which Billie leaned over and asked “What’s up?”
The only fitting response was “Doc.”
The couple nodded to Miss Rodgers who called out “Hexette and Techwolf.”
On cue the screen started to move while the sound from the vignette filled the room:
“Let’s all Square Dance, Places all, Bow to your corner, Bow to your own” at which the couple commenced to square dance in imitation of the sequence taken from the classic Bug’s Bunny cartoon ‘Hillbilly Hare’. The audience was flabbergast at first until the absolute hilarity of what was being performed hit them, soon the audience was clapping along with the music encouraging the two in their antics.
As the song ended the two dancers lay spread out on the floor, Harry was flat out on his back panting with arms and legs sprawled every which way, Suzanne was on her stomach her head resting on her hands and as a finally; spit out the straw she had held between her lips, indicating ‘that’s all folks’.
The crowd roared with applause and shouts of delight where given, The Imp had tears tracking down her face, she too had stood up and been clapping, as a sign of pure joy she yelled out “Marvellous, Wonderful” to them as they walked up arm in arm to the judges stand.
Cecilia moved up to near the judges and asked them to display the scoring cards as she read them aloud to everyone “Judge Cantrel gives them a 6” the audience was polite but a little subdued by the score. “Judge Ito gives a 7” the clapping was more appreciative. “And Judge Imp gives a 9” to which the hall clamoured it’s acceptance. “A total score of 22 for Hexette and Techwolf”.
Miss Rodger moved away from centre floor to allow the next couple to take their place, once she was on the sidelines she announced “ We give you Halcyon and Shasta”.
The bright light illuminated a couple in a passionate embrace which set an ‘ooohhh’ from the audiences collective voice gathered around them.
The music started to blare at too high a volume and was badly distorted, the two dancers stood apart and began to gyrate in harmony to the music. Onto their clothes had been sewn lights that pulsed with the beat. A few in the crowd had started trying to elicit interest by moving to the music and encourage participation from the audience as a whole, but it didn’t catch on. The audiences attention and emotion wasn’t interested, as most just stood and well … stood.
As a finally the couple took the ever anticipated pose of defiance standing back to back and wiped off their brows then flung the sweat at those on the sidelines.
A few loyal friends exaggerated their appreciation, yelling and shouting ‘Oh Yah’s’. If anything, polite applause could be heard from the rest.
Waiting in the wings Cameron whispered to Billie “That was rather uninspired.”
To which she replied “It looked like every Hollywood dance sequence for the last ten years.”
Jade; standing beside Billie chimed in “That was as much fun as pulling teeth” to which the three chuckled.
Cameron changed his voice and did ventriloquism as Marcus had taught him - saying like Yosemite Sam “What in Tar-Nation, more Square Dancing!” Billie was shocked but Jade just roared in laughter and the members of Team Kimba who were nearby and heard the comment joined in.
Miss Rodger’s thanked the dancers and moved up to the judges, asking Sensei Ito for his score: a 5, then Miss Imp: a 6, and Mrs Cantrel: a 5, for a total of 16.
Halcyon gave the judges a glare as she walked past.
Cueing up for the next contestants, Miss Rodgers announced “Let’s welcome Exquisite and Gravmax” and moved off to give the floor to the next couple. They waited on the floor at the ready, both wearing leotards, she was in white and he in black, again the screens lowered into place at either end of the dance floor, these came to life when a picture was cast onto them.
The image on the screen was an Ansel Adams black and white landscape photograph. The music started, which was Dancing With Tears in My Eyes. Cameron recognized the Ultravox song since it was one his parents would listen to.
The pair of dancers interpretation of the song had merit, even if it was ballet. Exquisite was actually pretty good - obviously having gotten some training, but Gravmax was little more than a lump - he would shuffle about and take a form, having her swirl around him - then they’d do it again elsewhere on the floor. The Ansel Adams photographs would change every so often.
There was little noise in the room during the performance. Twice during the performance Gravmax lifted Exquisite up and would twirl her around, the last time he twirled her - he mis-timed the set-down resulting in her falling onto the floor. Toni sought to place a bet on which would have the bigger bruise: her ego or her butt.
Exquisite finished with a pirouette then did a curtsey to accompany Gravmax’s bow. Miss Rodgers congratulated them, and had them stand beside her for the scoring.
Billie spoke softly saying; “I liked the pictures.”
Cameron added “Nice composition.”
Jade said: “Only the dancing deserves to be tossed into the compost, the rest was pretty good” those nearby who heard snickered, and Jade was given a nudge by Hank and told to keep it real. Billie was thrilled that most of her teammates had come to give support.
Mrs Cantrel provided some comments: “The music and pictures gave an emotional depth. Exquisite your dancing is elegant but could have benefited from some more feeling, I thought having Gravmax act like one of the landscape features in the photographs added a fine touch to illustrate the dance of life going on around him.”
Sensei Ito ‘Hurrmpt’ at that - but kept his thoughts to himself.
“Judges; your scores! Mrs Cantrel - a 7, The Imp; a 7, and Sensei Ito; a 5. For a total of 19. Thank you all.” At which she walked over to the sidelines in preparation for the next dancers.
This was it: Billie and Cameron had drawn fourth, the well wishers sent them out and they took position at an end of the dance floor, having to wait for the screens to retract and the spotlight to adjust.
It felt like a slice of forever as they stood an arms length apart waiting, Billie’s hand rested on Cameron’s shoulder, and that is what the audience saw when the spotlight focused on them. It was a moment of pure terror before Miss Rodgers announced; “Tennyo and Outlook.”
The costumes Jade had fashioned were very becoming, emerald green on dark black. Billie had a blouse with alternating stripes of the colours and thin green streamers running off each black sleeve magnifying her arms movements, she had a green skirt that went down to her thighs with slits on the outer edges, and black leggings with ankle bracelets of reflective green fabric. Camerons attire was a black shirt with offset green diamonds front and back up on the shoulders, at his waist was a wide green sash and a fob on the left side, his black pants had two green lines dissecting like snakes running down each leg on the out seam.
They smiled at each other, then clapped in unison as the signal to start the music - and took each others hand as they set about doing a gliding ring around the dance floors permitter looking like ice skaters building up speed over the surface, each step taken was a tap on the floor matching the drum beat to Great Big Sea’s song Sea of No Cares.
Their movement really looked like they were on ice skates, since both of them just slide overtop the wooden dance floor by no more than an inch, every step now that touched down was done in the manner and posture of River Dance. Their speed was fast and as a result they covered the whole floor area to have it appear like a figure skating routine. The two would leap and do several rotations before continuing to tap to the musics rhythm with arms and backs held stiffly while the feet worked out rapid stepping.
The audience had started out slow to garner how this looked and felt, and thou the song was unfamiliar it had a catchy beat and the rhythm was infectious. Soon enough the audience began jumping in place and twirling when Billie and Cameron acted like tops spinning to match the songs tempo, it was most encouraging when people commenced joyfully clapping.
Billie had been excited to learn figure skating moves and was fearless in doing complex combinations like double lutz’s and salchow’s. The hardest part had been getting the momentum to look right with somebody who could fly.
The mix between the stiff style of Celtic dance, and the fluidity of figure skating had been hard to blend, but each foot tap resulted in an additional thump to exaggerate the musical score, forward momentum coming from a foot’s push-off was just like the toe kick on skates. Although the bodies stayed in character, both of them grinned wildly in the spotlight.
At songs end the two dropped to a knee - facing opposite directions but with arms linked at the elbows as they looked at the audience, they slowly spun around seeing the whole crowd before stopping and bowing their heads.
Miss Rodgers applauded as she approached, and called out “Let’s hear it for Tennyo and Outlook” there was clapping in appreciation and enjoyment for the two’s performance. Standing they bowed in acknowledgement and thanks.
Turning to face the judges, Cameron bent to catch his breath - however Billie didn’t even look slightly winded. Sensei Ito was given the floor “Before I judge you, I need to ask how you could float like that? Tennyo is known for ignoring the laws of gravity - what about you young man?”
Unwrapping the sash around his middle Cameron revealed a belt, explaining “This is a levitation aid of my creation, it supported my weight and kept me off the ground.”
The judges conferred to the side with Mrs Cantrel motioning to her chair resulting in agreeable nods before they turned and addressed the dancers, with Tatsuo Ito taking the lead “The creativity of combining two styles of dance was most intriguing, I am told that figure skating is a popular sport with competitions held at the Olympics, on that recommendation I must admit it meets the media criteria. The technicality of River Dance is a joy to watch - your interspersing it with high flying spins gave it a new dimension and visuality. Well done.”
“Judges you’re scores” asked Miss Rodgers “Judge Ito: a 7, Miss Imp: an 8, Mrs Cantrel: a 7, for a total of 22.”
As they approached the sidelines, Jade ran out onto the dance floor and gave a grand hug to Billie, a lesser enthused hug for Cameron but still a warm and heartfelt squeeze. Surrounded by Billie’s friends they each gave encouragement to their teammate, Ayla who had on occasion been present at rehearsals in Poe cottages basement gave what could almost be called a gushing “good job” if not for the stoic delivery.
Cameron was tapped on the back and he turned to see Jericho in his white tux “You going to share the design of that belt?” he asked with a sly smile.
“The power demand is through the roof” Cameron warned.
“Given enough power, I’d hope it’d go through the roof” Jericho joked “You still haven’t come to my lab to see my RAFE suit.”
“I will, there just doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day.”
“By the way - nice moves out there you two.”
Both Billie and Cameron were overwhelmed with congratulatory comments, so much so that the nearby audience started shushing them all as the next couple had taken position and was being announced.
On the dance floor: Lady Liberty and Hatamoto began their routine. Cameron was too worked up to focus on anything - but the rumble from Billie’s stomach spoke of a pressing need, Jade and he lead the hungry girl over to the food tables. On the way into the other room Billie apologized saying she had been too nervous to eat. The chef’s saw Tennyo coming and began preparing a large plate for her, and offered hearty praise while handing her the food.
Billie was busy with the task at hand, leaving Cameron to say thank you to the well wishers that approached them. Jade had gotten all of them glasses of punch and the emotional high was slowly abating when the song ended. Miss Rodgers voice called for all competitors to the dance floor, Billie was torn between the remaining morsels on her plate and the announced request.
Jade was surprising good at opening a path in a crowd, and Billie handed her plate to Toni in passing. Taking position standing in a row with the other performers on the dance floor facing the judges, as Miss Rodgers continued giving an encouraging speech about the joy and benefits of dancing, then made an open invitation for any and all students to join the class.
Miss Rodgers checked on her students, then began calling out each couples names having them step forward as their score was announced:
“Hexette and Techwolf; 22”
“Halcyon and Shasta; 16”
“Exquisite and Gravmax; 19”
“Tennyo and Outlook; 22”
“Lady Liberty and Hatamoto; 20”
“It appears we have a tie!” announced Miss Rodgers, turning away from the judges she continued “May we impinge further upon your evenings festivities to conduct a tie-breaker round of dances?”
By means of applause those in attendance gave their assent, Miss Rodgers then asked for an intermission to allow her dancers to make preparations and freed up the dance floor. Heading off to the change rooms Cameron heard music and people started dancing.
The atmosphere in the mens change room had been pretty intense prior to the contest, apparently any competition necessitated jockeying for dominance and trash talking to throw others off their game, anything to hinder preparations and get an edge. Now, it was more jovial, as the majority were stepping out of costumes and into tonights formal attire, all except Harry and Cameron that is.
Harry had already been dressed in his suit rather than stay in the coveralls used for his first dance, he had his jacket off and was unbuttoning his shirt when Cameron walked past to his locker “You did amazing with your dance” commended Cameron.
“Thanks” responded the big guy “Your’s was incredible.”
“Tennyo makes anybody look good” conceded Cameron.
“No. You kept up with her, that’s not easy to do.”
“Thanks” remarked the boy as he took the hanger with his second costume off the lockers hook.
Fortunately all Cameron needed was a second of privacy to materialize his outfit onto himself, once a washroom stall was open, the door had barely closed behind him when he walked out ready to go.
The draw for the tie-breaker had Billie and Cameron up first.
Jade was even more nervous than the dancers and was busy primping her costumes. Billie wore a navy blue dress that had an oriental cut, on one side a slit went down to her knee, the other rested higher up on her thigh , it hugged her curves but stretched to permit movement, she also wore a blue coloured pair of short leggings underneath the skirt that matched the dress, and to finish off the look: a pair of shoes often worn by asian women.
Cameron stood next to her in his rumpled black suit and hat - cane in hand. Each couple had been warned to prepare a second routine, but this had been an after thought at best, and his nerves showed.
Miss Rodgers introduced them and the main lights dimmed with only a spotlight shining on the dance floors middle.
Cameron walked out from the sidelines, imitating Charlie Chaplan as best he could, at the centre he doffed his hat to the judges, he was distracted during his bow and picking up something off the floor, blowing on it he shined it on his sleeve then somewhat satisfied put it into his pocket.
Billie for her part was on the dance floor walking near the sideline, she had a tan overcoat wrapped around herself and fedora hat on. She stopped and the coat and hat jumped off her as it was filled out by Jinn. Billie ran being chased by the coat and hat toward Cameron who was preoccupied petting an imaginary dog, when she bumped into Cameron the music started.
In The Mood by Glenn Miller is the ultimate swing standard.
From there, it was a wild display of Billie doing martial arts moves like punches and kicks using Cameron as a pivot as she fended off the attacking coat.
Cameron had watched so many old time comedies frame by frame and was trying his best to emulate Stan Laurel and Buster Keaton by acting like he was completely unawares of what was happening here, all the while making it feel like they were swing dancing.
Cameron would be tipping his hat and offering apologies to the poor unfortunates who had for some reason been laid out prone and senseless around them, while Billie continued to swing off - around - under - and over him, only to have Cameron dragged back in another direction by Billie as she overcame another faux assault.
At a point in the music they stood back to back with no more fighters advancing - Jinn laid the coat and hat out empty on the floor off to the side. Cameron turned and tapped Billies shoulder, she reared up to hit him but instead stopped since he had his hat and cane in one hand and his other was open in invitation, at that they danced together in unison.
Tennyo and Cameron stood before the judges table, along with the mysterious trench coat and fedora hovering behind them.
Judge Ito spoke first: “Never had I imagined it possible for a Jackie Chan and Charlie Chaplain movie to be fused together!” He was supported by nods of agreement by the other judges “Tennyo: you showed remarkable control in your forms, a top notch display. I will speak with you further at our next class.”
Taking up the mantle next was Imp “Outlook; I could see elements of Chaplins ‘Tramp’ character in your performance, as well as the influences of Misters Keaton and Laurel, I thought you played the hapless bystander to a T, Well done young man - Well done.”
It was Mrs Cantrel’s turn, and she looked torn “Tennyo, Outlook. You did a fine job! Really. And it was delightful to watch, you both tried so hard to make it entertaining. But I must uphold the conditions of this contest: by bringing a third person into your dance you have broken the rules, as such I must move that you be disqualified.”
A collective groan was heard from all around, Cameron heard Billie fighting back an outburst of anguish and stay the tears welling up, he reached over her shoulder to give her a hug, the sleeves of the coat draped sorrowfully over either of them and the hat was tilted down in shame.
Putting on his own hat and resting both hands on his cane, Cameron spoke in as steady a voice he could manage “We forfeit! And offer our sincerest apologies.”
Miss Rodger came forward to speak “By means of forfeiture; Tonights winners are Hexette and Techwolf.”
Tennyo, Cameron, and Jinn led the crowd in applause as the winning couple came up to the judges table to accept their prize, the trio also gave the first congratulatory handshakes.
Attention focused onto the winners as the three walked over to Team Kimba who broke their huddle to offer condolences.
“We can fight this!” informed Ayla “Jinn isn’t a real person, so the rules don’t apply.”
“That would expose Jade, and winning isn’t worth hurting a friend” reasoned Cameron “Besides: you’re forgetting the entire reason behind this - or any shindig.”
“Oh! And what’s that?” inquired Toni standing between Billie and Jinn giving each a supportive squeeze, her question directed at the boy who had started moving away from the tight knit group of friends.
“I got to dance with a pretty girl!” he responded before the crowd and distance separated them.
Whateley Maintenance Yard: December 19, 2007
Winter break meant most of Whateley’s students had headed home, the place was deserted … almost, a few souls still remained - be it kids that didn’t have a home, or simply couldn’t go back.
And then there was Cameron; he’d had to refuse a couple offers of spending time with friends. Mike Williamson had invited Cameron to come to Prince George, Lynn asked on behalf of the Franklins if he would visit them, and Eloise Donner inquired about his plans: He’d had to turn them all down and he was sour over it.
Cameron was still on detention and as such wasn’t allowed to leave the school … He hated this place, he hated that he’d been forced to become a slave at this school.
He looked back upon his time here, wondering why he ever thought attending this school was a good idea, sure - he’d come anticipating an education … he’d gotten one alright; and it embittered him.
Cameron was taking a break from studying at Beck Library, he’d gone around to all the dumpsters and emptied them, he was waiting for Coop to show up in the garbage truck with his delivery of groceries, no doubt the snow had made the roads treacherous and why the man was late.
Cameron kept himself busy by shovelling snow off the pathways, likely the job he’d be assigned later anyway, The garbage truck finally made it, and Cameron hopped up onto the running board.
“Sorry I’m late, the roads don’t-cha-know” offered Coop while lowering the trucks window.
“Looks like almost a foot of snow has come down” sympathized Cameron.
“Yah, it’ll be touch-an-go getting back to town” stressed the man.
“Anything I can do?” wondered Cameron.
“Nah, Betsy here is a tough ol’ gal, she’s never let me down” he said while patting the steering wheel “Here: best be taking these supplies, I won’t be back till next year - so I hope it’s enough to last you … Oh! The mayor sent a little something extra, some of his wife’s famous rhubarb muffins.”
“I love rhubarb. Thanks Coop!” commented Cameron as he stepped down and backed away with his prize in hand.
Cameron waved goodbye as the truck rev’ed up and started moving away.
From behind somebody grabbed his parcel and shouted “Don’t Move!”
Shocked that someone would steal his stuff Cameron cried out "What. Hey! That’s mine” and he turned to confront the thief, resulting in an arm latching onto his shoulder forcefully. Cameron heard the “Uugh!” He looked behind to see a person fall into the snow.
It was a lady security guard, she had his package in one arm, but the other was held straight out and rigid. Fear racked the boy: her arm was disintegrating! It was falling apart like grains of sand.
He altered his sight to the molecular and saw how she was composed entirely of nanites, they were loosing cohesion as they died - the effect was aggressively moving up the arm, it was almost to her torso now.
Cameron dissipated part if the women’s shoulder to stop the spread, and that was all he remembered - apart from the massive hurt on the back of his head where a nightstick struck him.
The End
P.S.: What’s the Matter With You coming soon.