Majorette 3
No More Masks
Chapter 1: The Place Between
Gloria stood on a hillside of a cemetery, in the bleak gray
of late autumn. Around her were her friends, gathered to say farewell to her
brother. Wind blew and the air smelled of rain. She could hear the rumbling of
far off thunder. The new stone at the head of the grave read 'Glen Camdon,
loving son'. In the distance, lightning struck.
…
Laura ran beside the stretcher holding the body of her best
friend. The EMTs loaded the young woman into the ambulance. Laura followed
along.
”Are you a relative?” one of the EMTs asked.
”I'm her sister,” Laura stated.
They cut the uniform away from the victim, along with her
bra. The layers of padding that Laura and Lisa had stuffed in earlier fell
away. One of the paramedics hesitated, when he realized her chest was
completely flat. Laura looked at him, nearly shocked.
”Get your ass in gear, jerk-off!” she ordered.
The paramedic returned to his duties. The young woman had
been intubated, and the EMT was performing chest compressions.
Laura realized she couldn't see what was about to happen.
She knew some time back that there were going to be gunshots. She could see
slivers of the future even now, but she couldn't tell if Majorette… Glen…
Gloria… would live. At this she finally snapped. It was a horrible sense of
power and powerlessness.
”She's lost a lot of blood,” one of them stated, rushing to
slow her bleeding.
”Sounds like one of her lungs is flooding,” another one
said, listening to her chest with a stethoscope.
”These burns are pretty bad. Call ahead to the burn unit,”
the first one yelled to the driver.
Laura watched Gloria's eyes. They fluttered open briefly.
They didn't look focussed.
The ambulance pulled into the circular drive at the emergency
room. The stretcher was rolled into the hospital, with Laura following closely
behind.
…
Detective Yvette LeGraus was the first inspector on the
scene. What she found baffled her nearly beyond belief. A bunch of high school
kids had apparently stumbled upon a drug hit. The detective called in the
address, and waited for info to come back. She clipped her radio to her belt
and walked up to the scene.
”Good evening, Ma'am,” a uniformed officer said as he
approached her. ”There was one kid who took multiple gunshot wounds and burns.
She and her sister are headed off to the hospital. The others are over there,”
he motioned.
The detective watched them load another man into an
ambulance. A car in front of the house looked like it had been through a war.
Her radio squawked something, she listened as best she
could.
”Are any of you Gerald Johnson?” she asked as she
approached.
”Yeah… that's me,” Gerald said.
He and the others sat on the lawn across the street from his
trailer.
”You want to tell me what happened here?” she asked sternly.
…
Gloria watched the clouds roll in. The wind swept fallen
leaves everywhere, and suddenly lightning cracked open the sky. For the
briefest moment, Gloria thought she could see heaven.
She wanted to walk with the others as they left, but she was
being held at the foot of the grave by an unseen force. She looked down again.
The dirt that should have covered the grave was gone. The lid to the vault was
gone, and the coffin was wide open. The remains of Glen Camdon were leering up
at her. His waxen hand was hooked around her ankle, the forearm bent in an odd
direction. Finally the corpse spoke.
”You cannot leave me, dear sister.”
It was a gravelly voice, sending chills through her.
”Without me, you cannot live.”
Gloria shook herself free from the remains, turning to flee.
Seeing her twin brother rise from the grave sent shocks of horror through her.
Worse, the pallid face had contorted into near-animal fear. He truly did not
want to die. Again, the lightning crashed, splintering a tree only a few feet
away from her.
To her horror… she realized that she began to fade as she
wandered away from the grave. She knew what the corpse had said was true. She
understood now that she was the ghost, and her brother only the shell of flesh.
Finally she realized it was not Glen holding on, but her.
This wasn't even the real world, it was a near dream-place. She let go of the
remnants of the material world. Ashes to ashes… she thought. The cemetery
faded, leaving only a blanket of pale fog.
…
Detective LeGraus drove toward the police station. Beside
her was a young man named Brandon Shay. He was apparently the only youth at the
scene who had no paranormal ability. He had also turned over a video recording
of the incident that had just transpired. Other than that, he was proving very
uncooperative.
Three cruisers followed her. Each carried one youth. All
three of them were known paranormals.
She had also received word that one of the people carted off
was a known drug enforcer. His name was Harold Glade. He was known as Burner.
He was wanted on suspicion of eight counts of murder one. The detective pieced
together that the kids were there to stop him from attacking Gerald Johnson's
mother.
The youth were led into the station, and isolated. She
started with Brandon, taking his account of the incident first. As before, he
said little.
”Just watch the tape,” he finally said. ”Other than that, I
refuse to say anything without the presence of a lawyer.”
He finally went silent.
After he was returned to holding, she hooked up the digital
camera, and reviewed the footage. The entire incident was very brief, perhaps
half a minute overall. Apparently, he'd been sitting in the car with one of the
two young ladies who were ushered to the hospital. She seemed to be the sister
of the girl that had been shot. He had called her 'Laura' on the tape.
Detective LeGraus took notes, running the tape over and over. The audio matched
the call made to dispatch, but it was before any activity had happened on the
tape. Beside the name 'Laura' on her notepad, the detective wrote 'precog?'. It
seemed pretty clear that the two men leaving the car had entered the residence
forcefully, and the kids had only acted after that. One of the men that went
into the trailer was obviously Burner.
The poor girl on the tape, the one in the majorette uniform,
had taken a pounding from Burner. It shocked the detective to see her get back
up for a second round against that particular paranormal. Unfortunately, that
decision might now prove fatal.
She tapped the eraser of her mechanical pencil against the
note pad, then called records.
”Hey, Jerry, this is Yvette. Could you send me everything we
have on the incident with the 'Vandals' from last night? … Thanks.”
She leaned back in her chair, listening to it creak. This
majorette showed up at the Marshal High game last night, and broke up some sort
of hostage situation there. This case just kept getting more odd.
…
In the emergency room, the defibrillator paddles were being
charged, and Laura was escorted out of the room. An officer stood there,
waiting to talk to her.
”Miss, we need to know your name so we can contact your
parents, and tell them your sister's condition,” he said calmly.
”She's not really my sister. I just couldn't leave her like
that. My name is Laura Sanders. Her name is…” Laura exhaled heavily. ”Her name
is Glen Camdon.”
At the mention of the name, the officer's expression turned
quizzical, but he only asked for the spelling, and made no other comment.
Laura heard from the room beyond ”Clear.”
…
In the vast sea of white, Gloria felt lost. There seemed to
be no up, no source of light, although there was light all around her.
Somewhere she'd heard that as you die, your optic nerves fire as if seeing a
bright light… causing the 'Tunnel of light' description given by so many near
death experiences. Skepticism at the edge of death. She wanted to laugh.
Her mind focused on the grave stone. Glen Camdon, loving
son. It would be the only marker of her passing on earth once she was gone. She
looked back at her life. Only in the last two days had she turned to face the
truth of her feelings and their depth. Her life felt hollow, devoid of anything
Gloria could take with her. A life absent of any true accomplishments, built on
lies to placate the ones she loved... until last night. Gloria realized that in
truth she'd only been 'Gloria' for less than a day. She had a life she needed
to make right.
In the white nothing, there came a blinding flash, and a
knowledge that her body lay unmoving. It would not revive unless she wanted it.
She didn't want to go to whatever lay beyond, with her life so unresolved.
Chapter 2: Her Identity
The phone rang, and Detective LeGraus picked it up.
”Yeah?” she said. ”Spell that?”
She wrote it down, but found it hard to believe. Now the
scratch pad contained a new name, 'Glen Camdon'. She did a search on the
station's computers to see if there were any priors on him. Nothing. She did a
second search, widening to the entire system. The name came up once.
Yesterday's date. The detective read the report quickly. Apparently, he'd
lifted a car off a young girl who'd been struck. He was escorted home after the
event.
She moved the video to a frame with a reasonable shot of the
majorette, and stared at it. She found it hard to believe that young lady had a
name like Glen. She dug through the other tapes that had been brought up from
detectives working the Vandals case. She popped one in the VCP, and watched the
footage.
Afterward, She called for Gerald Johnson. He came in
escorted by a uniformed officer. Yvette flipped through his folder.
”Two misdemeanor counts of possession of marijuana. Three
counts of illegal entry,” she said, as Gerald sat in the chair across from her.
”What were these kids doing at your place this evening?” she
finally asked.
”Look, I did Majorette a favor last night, at the game. That
van the supers were driving, I messed it up before they could get away, and
then I sucker punched the driver when he got out. I came to her asking for
help. She got her friends together and they helped me out. There was some car
that kept cruising past my house, so we just kinda waited there to see if
something would happen. That leather dude came for my mom. He busted two of her
teeth out… broke her jaw.”
Gerald could feel his face growing red with anger, just
thinking of the situation.
”I couldn't find any kind of weapon that I thought I'd have
a chance against him with, but Majorette took him on, toe to toe. He knocked
her through a wall, and when he came in again, I was determined to stop him,
but Majorette came in a second time after him, forcing him out, but he… he shot
her. By that time, I'd taken a handful of steak knives from the kitchen. When he
came back in, I stuck one in his leg. By that time he turned to run, but I
think Sparks… Steve hit him one last time.”
He was looking coldly into the detective's eyes.
”Were you aware of the narcotics in your home?” the
detective asked flatly.
”Yeah… Mom wouldn't go clean. She got strung out some time
back. She was a small time dealer. Look… if this all comes out, Burner is going
to come for her again,” he said, sincerely frightened for his mother.
”If your mother would be willing to testify against him, we
may be able to get her into witness protection,” she stated.
”Can you get her into rehab?” he asked.
”I doubt the courts would want someone in their witness
protection program to be strung out. What about you? Who are your nearest
relatives?” she asked.
”Forget it. I'm four months from my eighteenth birthday. I
want emancipation. I'll finish school and … I don't know… get the hell out of
this shit-hole town,” he admitted.
”You know” he continued, ”This is the first time I've ever
dealt with police where I didn't want to just throw up?”
”Thanks,” the detective said flatly. ”Aren't you concerned
Burner will come for you if he gets out of prison?” she asked.
”Nope,” he stated without even thinking.
”Why not?” she asked, somewhat curious.
”You know I'm paranormal, don't you? He can't touch me,” he
said.
”What makes you so sure?” she looked at him with skepticism.
Gerald faded slightly, walking into the detective's desk, then stepping back
out.
”Because, no one can touch me if I don't want them to,” he
stated confidently. ”And when I said I stuck a knife into Burner's leg…”
Gerald grabbed a pen from the table, faded slightly,
sticking the pen halfway into the table's surface, and let go. Detective
LeGraus stared at the pen now fused with the desk.
…
The officer outside the emergency room came in again for
Laura.
”Miss… I'm here to take you downtown for questioning,” he
said.
She didn't want to leave, but had little choice.
”Sure…” she said absently. ”Have Glen's parents been
contacted?”
”Not yet. That's my next duty,” the officer stated.
”I have their home phone number. This might sound like an
odd request, but could I call them?” she asked.
She didn't really stop to wait for an answer. She cleared
her throat as the number rang.
”Camdon Residence.”
It was Glen's Father.
”Mr. Camdon, this is Laura Sanders,” she said, trying to
stay calm.
”Laura. Is Glen with you? We haven't heard from him all
afternoon, and he's not answering his cell phone,” he said somewhat angrily.
”Mr. Camdon… first, I have to talk to you about Glen,” she
started.
”Where is he, Laura?” Mr. Camdon returned in an
authoritarian tone.
She paused.
”He's here at Saint Luke's Mercy Hospital,” she said.
Suddenly his tune changed.
”Is he alright?” he asked, rather nervously.
”No… Not really,” Laura finally admitted. ”He's been shot. I
think you should…” she began, but the line went dead.
She hung up. She felt very ill, and finally sat down on a
seat. The officer with her stood, watching over her, and finally motioned her
to come with him to his cruiser.
…
Steve Andrews paced in a holding cell. He couldn't believe
this. They'd done the right thing, and now were held by the police. This just
wasn't how the world should work. In this large cell with him, a rather nasty
looking man leered.
”Hey boy, what are you in for?” he said, looking Steve up
and down.
”I'm being held for questioning,” Steve returned, not
looking at the man.
”Well, I hope they keep you in here a while. I could use me
a new bitch,” the huge man said.
Steve thought that this was most likely some kind of attempt
at intimidation.
”Hey… you ever hear of an enforcer named 'Burner'?” Steve
changed the subject.
”Yeah, why?” the hulking prisoner returned, looking somewhat
interested.
”Because I put him in a coma about an hour ago,” Steve said.
His hand now began sparking white-hot plasma. He grabbed a
cell bar, and pockmarks melted in the steel from his energies.
”I want to be real clear on this, you ugly fuck. I've had a
really bad day, and if you breathe at me wrong, I will make YOU squeal like a
pig.”
The man in the holding cell went silent. Steve thought that
perhaps Majorette's attitude was rubbing off on him. Suddenly, he wished he
knew how she was doing. He looked at the bar he'd just pocked, and drove the
thought of escape out of his mind.
Another uniformed officer entered the cell bay, and walked
to the cell Steve was in.
”Okay, son. Let's go. The detective wants to talk to you
now,” he said flatly.
Steve noted the fear in the guard's eyes. He knew Steve was
paranormal… maybe even saw what happened with the bars. He stood on a
double-edged sword. The fear he could raise in others was often enough to keep
him out of trouble, but when he saw in the eyes of normal people, people who only
knew Steve as a rumor… It hurt. He felt like the boogieman.
…
John and Alice Camdon walked quickly into the emergency room
of Saint Luke's.
”I'm here to see my son,” Mr. Camdon stated.
”What's your name, sir?” the lady at the front desk asked.
”John Camdon,” he said.
The woman typed something into the computer at her work
station.
”Sir… your daughter was brought in about an hour ago with
multiple gunshot wounds. I'll have a doctor come out shortly to inform you of
her condition,” she stated, looking at the screen.
”Ma'am… I don't have a daughter. I'm talking about my son,
Glen,” he said, now both confused and angry.
”Glen Camdon… That's right. I'm sorry about the mix-up. It
must have been a typo,” she stated in a professional tone. ”If you'll please
have a seat in the waiting area over there,” she motioned.
Mr. Camdon nearly shook with rage. He had no other vent for
the emotions he was feeling. He knew his son was a bit … effeminate, but to be
mistaken for a girl was inexcusable. His only child lay somewhere near,
suffering from a gunshot, and he had no control. It made him all the angrier.
Where had he been to get himself shot? Where was Laura? She said she'd called
from here. Mr. Camdon looked around, not seeing her anywhere. Finally, he spotted
a police officer.
”Excuse me, sir,” he said. ”Do you know anything of the
whereabouts of the friend of the … gunshot wound victim?”
He almost cringed at the thought.
”You mean the majorette? Her friend was taken down town for
questioning,” he stated flatly.
”What do you mean, 'the majorette'? I was told that my son,
Glen Camdon, had been shot. His friend, Laura Sanders called us not half an
hour ago from here. Please tell me this is some colossal mistake, and my son is
fine.”
The officer looked somewhat confused. He radioed into the
station, asking for I.D. on the gunshot victim.
”Sir, I'm afraid it was Glen Camdon. When he was brought in,
he was initially misidentified as a female. He was wearing the uniform of a
Marshal High majorette,” the officer said.
He had no hint of humor on his face. In fact, the officer
had seen the girl they brought in, and was just as surprised to find out that
it had been a boy.
John Camdon wandered back to his seat. His wife sat there
crying. He'd heard about an incident the night before at the high school
football game, involving some majorette. All sorts of weird thoughts went
through his head. He had plenty of time to run through scenarios as he sat
there waiting.
…
The third hit from the paddles had gotten a weak but steady
heartbeat. They rushed to clear the flooding lung, and began applying salves to
the burned throat and forearm of the teen.
”I thought the EMT said these were third degree burns?” a
doctor commented. ”They're not more than second degree. Cancel the request to
the burn unit. We can handle this here.”
”Doctor… she seems to be hypoglycemic,” an RN stated.
”Get her on a glucose drip,” the doctor ordered.
”Him…” another RN stated, as she cut away the remainder of
the uniform.
”What?” the doctor asked, confused.
”Him,” the RN repeated, showing the anatomical evidence.
The first RN set up the drip, moving it to the left arm.
”Doctor… what about the compound fracture?” she asked.
”It's not life threatening. Her… his coloration looks like
maybe his kidneys shut…” the doctor stopped, looking at Glen's skin tone.
”Damn…”
The doctor watched as the pale yellow skin began turning
more pink. The burns around the neck were even less drastic that they had been
when he first took note of them.
”Put in a call for Doctor O'Conner. I think we have a
regenerator here,” he finally stated. ”Increase that glucose drip steadily.
This kid will need as much available energy as we can pump in. Keep an eye on
the vitals. If they start to waiver, cut the Glucose by 30% of whatever you
have it at.”
The doctor stood back for a moment.
”Bring in a camera. I want to record this,” he finally
stated.
He'd seen medical videos in college showing rapid
regeneration in time lapse, but he could almost see the regeneration with his
naked eye.
”Doctor, her… his temp is up to almost 100,” an RN
announced.
”That's the accelerated metabolism. Don't worry unless it
breaks 102.”
He stared in fascination. He started to understand what gave
this kid the courage to face someone with a high caliber weapon. The bleeding
was slowing from the exit wounds in the back. Internal bleeding… at least into
the lung had stopped within ten minutes. The doctor decided that the arm would
need to be set soon, if it were to mend properly.
Chapter 3: Casualty of Hatred
Laura sat in the passenger seat of a police cruiser, headed
back to the station. The officer beside her sat mostly silent, throwing
occasional glances at her.
”You all right, miss?” he asked.
”I watched my best friend get shot tonight. How would you
be?” she asked.
Through the dim sea of pain in her heart, she was suddenly
hit with an overwhelming urgency.
”Turn here!” she ordered.
The officer turned the cruiser sharply on reflex.
”What the hell was that about?” he demanded.
”Quiet! Two blocks forward. Hurry… Turn left… Okay, here.
Stop the car.”
The cruiser stopped twenty yards from a small metal bridge,
crossing one of the two small rivers in town that converged farther down
stream. Laura got out of the car, running toward the rusty structure. The
officer pursued.
She looked through the latticework of the arching overhead
girders. High up on one side, someone was climbing. Laura looked over the side
below. There were rough boulders there. If someone jumped from that point on
the bridge, they would… Then she understood the urgency of the mental command
she felt.
A man was climbing near the top of the structure. The
officer caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm. She turned to look into
his face, then looked up again. The officer followed her stare.
”Oh, shit…” the officer exclaimed unceremoniously.
He backed away and radioed the situation in to the station.
Laura began to climb. Her training in gymnastics worked to her advantage. The
climb wasn't particularly difficult, but the rusted metal and thick chipping
paint cut at her hands.
The young man watched as she finally reached the top. Laura
stopped, frozen in disbelief. Mike Mazzy sat on the edge of the bridge, staring
at her through tear streaked eyes.
”Hi Mike,” she said softly.
”Hey, Laura. You ought to get back down. I don't think you
want to watch this.”
…
Doctor Barrette stripped his gloves and the rest of his
disposables. The teen was stable now. He'd never seen anything like it. An hour
ago, she had large pieces of multiple organs torn out through gaping exit
wounds. Now… He honestly didn't know if it would be worthwhile putting a
permanent cast on the broken arm. He'd doubt the teen would need it even before
it was completely dry. He'd caught the last forty-nine minutes, recording the
miraculous regeneration. He'd never worked on a regenerator before. He was
calling up to records to see if Ms… The doctor shook his head. He kept thinking
of the youth as a female. That's what he'd first heard, and first seen… It was
in fact a male. He'd been certain the external anatomy was quite clear. ”One
hell of a cross-dresser, though”, he thought.
He ordered a copy of any DNA testing that had been done on
young Mr. Camdon. He was surprised to find that two separate reports had been
filed in the last month. The first, for a life science class at Marshal High
School, testing for the Conrad Sequence. The second… a DNA version modifier
1.1, dated yesterday. The doctors notes described fixing a faulty gene, then
noted the sequence identifier. It marked body wide replacements of testosterone
receptors.
What was reported in the final modifier printing from the
gene rewrite software was insertion of the Conrad Sequence. Dr. Barrette
updated the patient's records… marking Activated Paranormal, then corrected the
gender field. The information had been entered incorrectly. Not surprising,
considering he'd come in looking very much like a teenaged girl. Her ... his
clothing had even spoken to the fact. Who inserted the DNA sequence if the
doctor wrote up a request for testosterone receptor change?
He headed out of his office, looking for the youth's
parents. An orderly had told him they'd arrived some time ago.
…
”Mike… Why?” was all that Laura could manage.
Mike stared down at the rolling water below. Laura had the
dull sense that she was moving, even though the bridge was motionless. Her
hands tightened on the steel girders. Mike just sat, shaking his head.
”I never wanted this, Laura.” Mike said. He spoke through
waves of pain. ”There's just no way out, and I can't handle watching this wreck
my life. I'm an all state wrestler. THAT's who I am. I'm not…” he stopped.
”Mike… I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”
She inched closer to him, across the steel caked in rust.
”What? Like Glen didn't tell you already! I don't want your
sympathy. It's not going to fix my life”
Mike pulled his legs against himself. The water below didn't
look so bad, better than the alternative.
”Mike… I've been with Glen most the day, and he never
mentioned you. He's got other things on his mind, trust me,” She said, but she
felt her emotions swell, and her lip began to tremble.
She couldn't help the flood of feelings, seeing Gloria on
the stretcher… and now, talking to another classmate, ready to end his own
life.
”Please… I don't want to see you die. Whatever you've done
can be undone,” she pleaded.
”No. Not this…” Mike stated, standing up. ”Tell Glen I'm
sorry for everything.”
Mike stepped back off the edge of the bridge. Laura stopped,
frozen in fear. The cold autumn wind rocked the bridge, and far off, Laura
could hear sirens.
Seconds later, a strange motorcycle pulled up, almost
silently. The officer ran up to the rider and spoke. Something about the rescue
team getting to the man in time. The dark dressed rider came back moments
later, firing a grappling line into the upper girders of the bridge, then leapt
over the side, head first, toward the injured youth.
She thought the guy was Talon, a paranormal that
occasionally showed up in town. He also worked with a larger group near the
coast. He was quick and efficient getting the young man on a backboard, and
getting him up to the bridge. Talon's body armor hid any discernable features,
and covered his face completely. The nature of his voice was masked with a
voice modulator. As Mike was loaded into the ambulance, Talon expertly scaled
the beams to Laura.
”Do you care for a lift, miss?” his odd, synthesized voice
questioned.
” Um… Sure,” Laura said wearily.
He swept her up in his arm, and repelled rapidly back to
street level.
”How is he?” Laura asked.
”Do you know him?” Talon asked.
”Yeah… a classmate,” she replied.
”Not the only one tonight, from what I hear,” he said again.
Laura started losing it. To her utter shock… Talon held her,
hugging her a bit, an odd expression of emotion from the armored combatant.
Laura had imagined him taller. He was probably not more than five foot eight
inches tall.
”Officer, I can get her into the station,” Talon finally
said. ”Would you care for a ride with me?”
Laura just stared at him… somewhat shocked. Gloria and Mike
both…
”You might feel better knowing your friend is out of
critical condition,” He said. ”The majorette, I mean. We were informed of the
situation less than an hour ago, and I came to see to it that Burner makes it
to Orbit 9 without further incident."
Laura's eye's brightened. Gloria was all right. Talon handed
her a helmet. They climbed onto his mag-lev bike. The wheels were still set for
ground travel.
”Hold tight,” he said, throttling up.
A streak of ions fired from the rear thruster, and the two
of them tore off rapidly.
Her helmet had a built-in headset. After a few moments,
Talon's still-modulated voice spoke calmly.
”Laura… We don't always win, you know,” he said.
Laura didn't want to talk, but it did help having someone
sympathetic to her feelings. She guessed Talon had seen a lot worse things than
this.
”What do you do when you see something like this?” she
asked.
He chuckled. It sounded odd through the synthesizer.
”I cry, I beat a punching bag, I meditate… sometimes I
pray.”
Laura knew he was probably talking just to keep her mind off
the situation.
Talon pulled up at police HQ. He pulled an odd electrical
device from his belt, and pointed it at the bike as they walked in. He was
silent during the ride in the elevator.
He directed her to sit in the chair outside the office of
Detective LeGraus. Talon was in with the detective for only a couple minutes
before calling her in.
Chapter 4: Confrontation and Formation
Glen had several IVs in his left arm. The right arm was in
an air splint. There were bandages across his throat. Glen was awake, and
appeared to be in fair spirits, until his parents walked in. Glen's father
stood beside the bed, holding his wife's hand. . He thought Glen looked
horrible. Glen's mother had the puffy look in her eyes like she'd been crying.
”What happened?” Glen's dad asked.
”I was trying to help a friend,” Glen stated.
”And you stepped in against someone with a gun?”
His dad sounded controlled, but about to explode.
”Yesterday, I picked a car off of a young girl, dad. Last
night, with the help of a couple other kids, I stopped four paranormal felons.
I didn't know the guy I went after tonight had a gun. Honestly, it wouldn't
have changed my actions even if I HAD known. He was trying to kill someone,”
Glen stated truthfully.
”Glen… Are you trying to get yourself killed?” His dad
bellowed.
”Does it matter to you? It's not like I've ever been your
model son. You don't want me the way I am. You sent me to that fucking doctor
yesterday and NEVER asked what I wanted. You just assumed it would be all right
with me if you turned me into a 'real man'. Guess what dad? I'll never be the
young man you want me to be.” Glen said, now feeling a slight flush of fear,
finally confronting his father this way.
”No, I guess not. Not when you run around dressed like a
fairy,” John Camdon said coldly.
”Not like a fairy. I was dressed like a girl. You want to
know why? Because I am a girl, dad. I always have been. I've gotten nothing but
a lifetime of subtle ridicule from you. Not only did you never come to any of
my ballet recitals, but all you ever did was give me shit about it. You shoved
me into what YOU wanted, not what I wanted. Yesterday, the vice-principal
suggested I should go through gender testing, but no, you knew best. You could
never face the fact that your son might not be the macho star athlete you
wanted. So you know what I did? I switched the doctor's scan sheet before he
gave me the shot to 'fix' your genetically fucked-up little girly boy. I can
lift a car, dad! I can run as fast as my car drives and I can heal from
virtually any damage.”
Glen was beginning to cry.
”I'm not a coward. I'm not a wimp. Some day, I might even be
called a hero… But I can't lie any more, and I'm sick of pretending I'm
something I'm not.”
”Glen Camdon. I don't care what you think you are. I will
not stand by watching my son traipse around my house in drag. Not while you
live under my roof. I don't want to hear any more of this SHIT about you being
a girl! I will not stand for it.” He shouted.
Glen reached for the call-button, clicking it. A moment
later a nurse arrived.
'Dad… this is what you just said feels like... Nurse, Get
him out of my room. I don't want him in here again.” Glen said, staring his
father down as the nurse escorted him out.
…
Within minutes of being called into the office of Inspector
LeGraus, Laura was no longer alone. Steve was ushered in, followed by Lisa.
Gerald was last. Each looking in full wonder at Talon, seated at the far end of
the table.
”They gave me a piss test,” Gerald said indignantly.
Talon stood when all the youth had arrived.
”First, let me say this. The majorette is recovering nicely.
She is awake and responding coherently. She will most likely be discharged some
time tomorrow afternoon.”
There was a collective sigh of relief.
”Second, the police have found you all in violation of only
minor laws, mostly related to congregation of paranormals. I have requested
that they drop those charges, and they have agreed… under the stipulation that
any further meetings organized by you as a group be supervised by an appointed
facilitator, under the jurisdiction of the D.O.D.. Some half-wit bureaucrat has
named this youth program Future Super-Heroes of America, or FSHA. So, if you
are interested in participation, you and your parents must sign this release
form. Gerald, you are free to join without parents' signature, under the
assumption that you will be granted legal adulthood through the courts.”
”So… what? Does this mean we're now part of the side-kicks
in training league or what?” Gerald asked.
”No… Golden Shield uses these groups as recruiting grounds
occasionally, as does military special ops. Honestly, it's more for us to watch
you, and keep you out of trouble like this. I'm not saying stop you, just give
you the tools to do the job correctly.”
”You're sanctioning us as a paranormal group?” Laura asked.
”That's right. It allows legal right of assembly for
paranormals. It requires an experienced adult in the community as an official
facilitator, but I think I have the perfect candidate in mind,” Talon's
modulated voice stated.
”For now, you will be released back into your parents'
custody. Brandon Shay was released nearly half an hour ago. That's all, good
evening,” Talon stated curtly.
…
Glen woke with glaring sun in his eyes. A young lady sat
quietly in a chair, reading something in a file.
”I'm glad to see you're up. I trust you're feeling better?
My name is Patricia, and I'm here to administer a few tests, if you are feeling
up to it,” she said brightly.
”I… guess. What kind of tests?” Glen asked still somewhat
asleep.
”A battery of standard psychological tests, including
several gender tests. It is my understanding that you entered these facilities
last night fully cross-dressed. It is the opinion of Dr. Barrette and your
parents that perhaps these tests would shed some light on the subject,” she
said professionally.
Glen blushed, thinking of how he must have looked when the
staff first saw him. He checked under the blankets, and found that he only wore
a hospital gown. He had no visible scars. He checked under his gown closely,
then opened and closed his right hand. He took the stack of papers and followed
the instructions the young lady gave.
After nearly half an hour, he buzzed the nurse, and
requested solid food. It took another hour for it to arrive, but it appeared to
be enough for four people. By that time, he'd finished testing, and the young
lady took the tests off to be evaluated.
Glen wolfed down his breakfast, and thought about what he'd
said to his father last night. When the nurse came in to take his tray, he
asked that his father be allowed back in.
Within half an hour, Laura, Lisa, and Steve showed up. They
brought 'Get well soon' cards, flowers, and candy. Laura brought a little teddy
bear, in a majorette uniform. She didn't look like she'd slept at all during
the night.
Glen cried when he got the bear, and hugged her lightly. He
still noticed a few twinges of pain when he moved. He realized he was not
perfectly mended.
They also handed him a paper. The front page covered the
incident last night. Laura even pointed to the author of the article… Brandon
Shay. After all the small talk was done, and they started to leave, Laura
shooed the others on ahead, and turned back to Glen.
”There's something else you might want to read,” she said
somberly.
She turned the paper through about mid way, and pointed out
a short article entitled 'His last words'. She kissed Glen, and walked out. The
article was the suicide note from Mike Mazzy. He read the text of the paper.