Mind Over Mind (19 page)

“Got your old defenses back in place? Then, we’re not done yet, but we could take a breather. Hungry? What say I poke my head out the door and order us some chow? You just stay there and take five.”

He went out the regular entrance. Dr. Hoffman, who must still have been observing, was waiting for him. “That was the singularly most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” he said after Joshua shut the door.

Joshua tried not to grin too widely; it helped that his face was starting to hurt again. “Thanks. We’re not done yet. Can we get some dinner, and maybe a bunch of munchies and drinks? Nothing too heavy, though,” he added as his stomach gave an unexpected twist at the thought of food.

“What else do you have to do? He seems fine—well, fine for Deryl.”

“Ydrel’s big complaint is that he can’t keep up his defenses against the onslaught of thoughts and emotions around him—”

“C’mon, Joshua. You’re not buying into his ‘I’m psychic’ psychosis?”

“It doesn’t matter. That’s his reality, and it’s preventing him from interacting with what the majority consider reality. Today, he couldn’t even cope. All I’m doing is helping him acquire the tools in his reality that will let him live in ours.”

“And once he’s better able to cope, we work on his delusions?”

“Once he’s able to cope, there won’t be any need. I’d better get back in there,” Joshua started before Dr. Hoffman could argue. “Could you get someone to bring us some food?”

The older psychiatrist smiled. “Sure. Light main course and lots of munchies and things to drink. You like Diet Coke, I recall?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll probably need the caffeine.”

CHAPTER 21

“Are you going to lie on that couch all day?” Ydrel glared at Joshua’s prone form with irritation. He knew Joshua was tired and his head hurt, but he also knew the intern was posing for their audience.
See? Psychology doesn’t have to be hard…

“Depends on you,” the intern replied laconically. “We’re here until you’re ready to leave. Until then, we might as well be comfortable.” He reached for his bottle of Diet Coke, peered inside with a half frown before swallowing down the last dregs. “Hand me another one, please?”

“
You’re
comfortable.
I’m
working.” But Ydrel got up and went to the table along the wall where sodas and bottles of water shared the space with plates of food. He grabbed a soda, gave it a shake, then tossed it to Joshua.

“Funny.” Josh twisted the cap until it fizzed just enough to let out the extra air. “You found that sky-borne ley line yet?”

Ydrel sat back down in his chair and crossed his legs. “I was working on it when you sent me to fetch your soda.”

“You were griping about me lying down when I asked you if you’d hand me one. Figured you were looking for a breather.”

“It’s not easy, inside,” Ydrel groused. “I can’t see it.”

Joshua sighed. “We can take this outside if you want, but you can’t live in the Great Outdoors forever. You need to be able to find it indoors as well. Can’t you hear it, or feel it?”
Ydrel leaned against the back of the chair. “I tried. There’s too much noise. It’s like swimming though mud. You can imagine what that’s like, Mr. Sinks-Like-A-Stone.” It was another tidbit he shouldn’t have known about Joshua (he’d picked it up from Sachiko’s mind), and a low blow besides, but the intern didn’t rise to the bait.

“If I were drowning, I’d give it my best shot.” He started playing some song on his imaginary keyboard.

“Fine.” Ydrel leaned forward, elbows on knees, his fingers digging through his hair. He wasn’t quite drowning anymore. The food had helped; the time “away” had helped; knowing Joshua was going to stay with him until they figured this out helped, too.

So had Joshua’s idea of the ground and of letting things shunt through him. Now, however, he was finding that he had to get through that to sense anything beyond. It
was
like swimming through mud, but mud with a swift and dangerous undertow. He let out a nervous sigh.

Then he felt Joshua’s attention on him, felt him wishing he could see Ydrel’s eyes. Ydrel didn’t understand NLP theory, but he knew Joshua took a lot of cues from eye movements and posture.

He’d know if I was drowning. He’d come after me.
The thought strengthened Ydrel, and he sat back and let himself wade, then swim, through the wild, stormy sea of thoughts and emotions that threatened to overtake him. They terrified him, ate at his fragile defenses like water against sand, but he pushed on. If he stopped he’d drown, and he didn’t think even the Great Joshua Lawson would be able to bring him back.

Suddenly, he was no longer swimming but floating, surrounded by a dazzling clear light and exquisite silence that almost seemed to sing. All around him, he could—feel? Taste? He had no words. But whatever it was, it was there, refreshing him, filling him with a wonderful sense of power he’d never before experienced. A laugh escaped his throat.

“Found it?” Joshua prompted.

“It’s…wow…” Ydrel squirmed in his chair and giggled. He felt so happy and excited, like he had that Christmas when he was five and he and his mom had gone to his uncle’s and aunt’s house and he knew he’d get some great loot. “This is so cool! There’s so much, and you were right: there is a…a flavor or color or something to it. It’s definitely different from what I got through the ground. So, what do I do with it now that I’ve found it?”

“Only three things to do with energy: use it, store it, or leave it alone. What do you want to do?”

“Shields, I guess. But what do I do?”

“I’m not the military strategist; you are. Why don’t you take all that learning you’ve been passing on the Tasmae-nian She-Devil and use it for your own benefit for a change? Analyze the attacks; decide how you can defend against them, and build your defenses.”

Ydrel closed his eyes and thought about the effect of people around him, how they wore away at his shields like an acid rain, or more like acid waves, and how a particularly strong attack battered through. It was painful; even as he thought about it, he could feel his barriers giving way.

Then, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ydrel, these are memories, right? You don’t need to relive them, just examine them from a distance. Try putting them in a book and read them, or lay them out like you’re analyzing a battle plan or something. Give me a report.”

Speaking as dispassionately as he could, eyes still shut, Ydrel told him how the psychic emanations attacked his defenses.

“Good. It sounds like you have three different kinds of attack: the steady wearing down of your defenses by the everyday emanations of people around you—sort of like psychic white noise—the pounding attacks of blunt emotions, and the point attacks of specific impressions or memories. Sound right?”

“You sure you aren’t a strategist?”

“Nah. Mom taught me how to summarize well, is all. Tell me what’s wrong with your defenses in light of this analysis?”

Now that they had actually looked at it, the answer was clear. “I’ve got one single defense against multiple levels of attack, and no means to shore myself up as I’m worn down. I need to build multiple defenses with diversified materials and strategies, set up fallback positions, maybe have ready reserves of energy to build up my shields on the fly. I—I don’t know if I can do all that.”

“Why not? You’ve got a greatly enhanced source of energy, a safe haven for as long as you need it, and me to bounce ideas off of. If you need something more, let me know and I’ll try to get it.”

Ydrel opened his eyes and saw that the intern—his friend—was totally sincere. He also noticed the bruise on Joshua’s face. Had Joshua gotten that rescuing him? He felt his eyes sting and mist. He pressed his knuckles into them hard.

“You OK?” Joshua asked softly.

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I just, I’ve never had a friend like you before. No one’s ever…”

Joshua shrugged it off. “You’ll pay me back sometime. I get the impression the wall you have is a small, brick-type one, like around your mind or something?” Ydrel nodded. “Well, there are a lot of ways to think, not just with your mind. Some people think more with their bodies—you’ve heard of gut feelings, right?—and others with their emotions, which are as much tied into the nervous system of the body as the hypothalamus and limbic system. I’ll bet you’re getting a lot of ‘Left Hook’ attacks through your body. Why don’t you work on building a personal shield that surrounds your body like a second skin or an aura—maybe an anti-aura, actually.”

Ydrel spent the next couple of hours alternately eating and working. First, he created an ever-present shield of dull, impression-absorbing energy, which would capture the outside impressions and shunt them away through his ground. Things were muffled but still present, like the sound of rain on a thinly insulated roof. He tried making the shield stronger, but it blocked everything; for a moment, it was blessedly still, then he felt disoriented and scared. Everything seemed wrong, flat. Joshua stared at him with an expression he couldn’t define, and when he spoke, his voice, though full of inflection, was oddly emotionless.

“Ydrel, are you all right?”

Hastily, Ydrel cut back the shield’s strength. Color and impression returned. He found he was gasping with relief. He could now see Joshua’s brow was furrowed with worry. He told him what happened. “It was like suddenly being blind or deaf or something. For a minute, I wasn’t even sure that you were you. I mean, it looked like you, but I couldn’t be sure. It was weird.”

“Interesting. That’s an important lesson: you don’t want to completely shield yourself from what’s around you because you depend on it to recognize people. So how are you going to handle that?”

“I guess I need some kind of…radar screen to let me sense what’s around me, and a way to determine what to let in and what to shield against. But how in the world can I do that?”

“That, I can help with.” Joshua taught him about the “control room,” a sanctuary inside his mind where he could have internal dialogues with himself. He taught him how to access his creative subconscious, set it to work on a task—in this case, his radar screen—and give it a way to signal him if it had ideas. He followed Joshua’s instructions. Then, with his subconscious working the radar issue, he set to work again on his defenses, building up several types of shields. Some, he would wear all the time. Others, he could call up in a hurry.

“There’s one other thing we should think about,” Joshua told him when he’d stopped for a break and to drink some water. “Reserves. You should have a way to store energy. After all, when you’re out in the world, you may not be near a convenient ley line, right?

Ydrel nodded, polished off the bottle in a series of quick swallows, and turned his attention to the issue. His first thought was to pile it, like batteries or ammunition, near his barriers.

“Your body stores energy in your fat cells,” Joshua suggested. “Not that you should get obese or anything.”

“No, I see what you mean. Make it an extension of my body.”

“Yeah, like a sword,” Joshua agreed.

A sword! Ydrel remembered his sword, the one from the land of mists. If he could embed it with enough energy, he might even be able to break free of the Master’s spell! Could he find it without the Master calling him, and power it without drawing the Master’s notice? He resolved to try, but later. It was one thing he did not, could not, explain to Joshua. Besides, he felt better and stronger than he had in ages. He didn’t have to accomplish everything tonight.

“I feel so…steady,” he finally told Joshua. “I think I could take on anything.”

“Really?” Joshua said thoughtfully.

Suddenly, a burst of anger flared across Ydrel’s senses like a fireball.
That bitch! How could she—!
Ydrel blinked. “Hey! What was that about?”

As suddenly as the anger hit, it was gone, replaced by low-level surprise. “Thought you said your shields could take it.”

“Well, it wasn’t as bad as it might have been, but still, I wasn’t expecting it. I’ve been concentrating on storing the energy, not putting it into defenses.”

“You need to get used to doing both, plus whatever else you want to do, psychic and otherwise. Leastways, that’s how they train them in the books. Or do you want to go around in life with a t-shirt that says:
CAUTION: PSYCHIC. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM USING STRONG EMOTION WITHIN 50 FEET
?”

Despite himself, Ydrel laughed. “And on the back, I could put: SAME TO YOU, FELLA. You’ve got a point. Try that again.”

“Oh, I will.”

And he had, tossing out bits of emotion or memory at random, first making Ydrel block it, then block it but still identify it—part of the radar his subconscious was working on. Joshua returned to reclining on the couch, and talked to him a little about Colorado, about college, about books—about everything but “the bitch” who had made him so angry.

“So, who was she?” Ydrel asked, reaching through his shields toward Joshua’s emotions.

“Ex-girlfriend,” Joshua answered shortly. “Don’t go there.”

And the colossal wave of anguish and hurt that waited behind the anger made Ydrel retreat back to himself in a hurry.

They snacked until only crumbs were left—or rather, Ydrel did. Joshua stuck to crackers and water, with the occasional Diet Coke. Joshua would find some new memory or thought to toss at him. When Ydrel got good at identifying and deflecting emotional ones, Joshua turned to physical memories.

“Are you all right?” Ydrel asked after Joshua hit him with the memory of a chair. “’Cause that really hurt!”

“I could use some more Tylenol, but I’ll live,” he answered. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Bathroom break,” Ydrel said and rose to relieve himself.

When he returned, Joshua was asleep on the couch.

CHAPTER 22

“Joshua? Come on, Joshua, wake up, please?”

For a confused moment, Joshua wondered what Sachiko was doing in his apartment. Then he remembered that he wasn’t in his apartment; he was in the infirmary. He had fallen asleep working with Ydrel. Ydrel had actually cleaned up the room while Joshua slept, and then fetched Sachiko. She looked him over and declared he needed more than just Tylenol. How he’d managed to walk on his own to the infirmary without throwing up or passing out, he’d never know. He was pretty sure he’d done both those things once he got through the infirmary doors.

The doctor took x-rays, diagnosed him as post-concussive, and told him he was going to stay in the infirmary under observation for the day. Edith, who was kicking herself for letting him go so long without getting checked, offered to go to his apartment and pick up some clothes, so he gave her his keys and allowed the doctor to escort him to his room. Eric, the on-staff massage therapist, was waiting for him there.

“Did you really take down a berserk patient and then spend three hours doing sit-ups with a catatonic?”

Despite his headache, Joshua laughed at how the rumors were already growing. “Sachiko took down Mr. McDougal. I just got in the way. And I was sitting and rocking, though I don’t know how long. It hurts, though.”

“Strip to your underwear and lay down. We’ll see what we can do for those muscles.”

Joshua had fallen asleep with Eric working on his abdominals.

He still didn’t have anything on, which he discovered as he sat up in bed. Sachiko handed him a shirt and he gratefully put it on. He didn’t mind Sachiko seeing him shirtless, far from it, but it was cold under the air conditioning. “What time is it?”

“Three o’clock.”

“Already? I really sacked out!”

She laughed shortly. “More than you think. You’ve been out for almost 36 hours. We weren’t even going to wake you, but...” Her voice caught. “It’s Isaac. He hasn’t eaten in over 24 hours. He’s stopped breathing a couple of times. I don’t think he’s going to last the day.”

“Someone called his family?”

Sachiko actually snarled. “His grandson will try to make it tonight—’important meetings’ or some such bullshit. Ydrel’s been with him since yesterday evening.”

“How’s he doing?” He finished buttoning his cuffs and took the tie she handed him.

“Remarkable. He’s upset, naturally, but he’s not lost, like he usually is around Isaac. Josh, I know you’re still probably feeling awful, but you’re the only one on staff who has any experience with this sort of thing, and you’ve spent a lot of time with him lately. Plus, I don’t think Ydrel will leave his side for anybody else, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea he be there when—”

“Hey, it’s OK. I feel fine, honest.” He started to get up, and remembered just in time that he had no pants on. “Uh, how about if I catch up?”

She smirked. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“Ko—?”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

“Has anybody called a rabbi? I don’t know much about Jewish traditions, but he is pretty religious, I thought.”

“I’ll check.”

She shut the door, and he hurried to finish dressing. Just as he shrugged on his suit coat, Dr. Caldwell came in and gave him a cursory exam, and made him promise to return to the infirmary if he felt any signs of dizziness or nausea. Sachiko was just hanging up the phone as he approached the infirmary desk.

“Rabbi Rosenbaum will be here in about half an hour,” she said as they headed down the hall. “I’ll need to talk to security and arrange an escort.”

“I’ll go on to his room, then.”

She gave him a long sideways glance. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

He wanted to put his arms around her and reassure her, but she’d made it clear that she didn’t want any “personal displays of affection” at work. He settled with a smile. “I’m fine. And I appreciate your getting me up.”

“All right, then.”

He left her at the nurses’ station and went on to Mr. Goldstein’s room. No one had bothered to open the curtains or the blinds; despite the mid-morning sun, it was dark and dim, and kind of morbid, especially with the air conditioning cooling the room to a temperature more suited to tombs. He went straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains, opened one enough to let in a little natural air in. Immediately, the place felt better. He pulled a chair next to Ydrel, who blinked owlishly at him.

“How you holding up?” Joshua asked.

“Fine, I guess. I just, I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing everything you need to,” Joshua reassured him, then took the dying man’s hand from his. “Mr. Goldstein? It’s Joshua. We’ve talked a few times. I wanted you to know your grandson is going to try to visit tonight. Also, Rabbi Rosenbaum is coming in a little while. Would you like to see him? If so, just squeeze my hand.” He felt the slightest pressure along his fingers. “OK, sir, we’ll have him come right in. In the meantime, though, you just do what you need to. Don’t worry about us. You’ve done so much on this earth, you deserve to rest. Ydrel’s here with me, and I know he feels the same way.” He glanced at Ydrel.

“’Course I do.” His voice husky with unshed tears.

Joshua gave him the old man’s hand back and they sat in silence. A few times, he took the opportunity to study Ydrel. Sachiko was right: although he seemed sad and even a little scared, he was nonetheless centered and certainly within his own mind. In the warm afternoon light, Joshua could examine his eyes. He didn’t see any of the wild “pinning” he had come to associate with what Ydrel called his psychic abilities.

Nonetheless, Ydrel seemed to pick up his thoughts. “My defenses are holding pretty well,” he said, “though I’m eating into my reserves.”

“We’ve got some quiet time; replenish them now.”

Ydrel nodded and closed his eyes. Joshua took the old man’s hand.

A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door and a man in a conservative suit but with a small round cap on his head poked his head in. Joshua waved him in. “Mr. Goldstein, the rabbi is here. Shall we leave the two of you alone? Squeeze for yes.”

Again a slight pressure. The two got up to leave, then stopped as the elderly man spoke, “Ydrel,” he breathed.

Ydrel rushed back, leaned close to his dying friend. “I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“I—you’re welcome.” Gently, he kissed the old man’s head, then hurried from the room.

Joshua lingered a few minutes with the rabbi. When he emerged from the room, he found Ydrel leaned against the wall near the door, hunched over so that his hair fell over his face, arms crossed, seemingly staring at a point on the floor six inches from his feet. Sachiko hovered nearby, looking helpless. Apparently, she had offered her sympathy and been refused. She gave Joshua a distressed look.

“Hey, Ydrel, when’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know. Yesterday, I guess.”

“Well, you’re ahead of me. What say we go to the kitchen and grab some sandwiches or something?”

“I don’t know,” Ydrel glanced at the door, his face screwed up with indecision.

“The rabbi’s praying with him. There’s nothing we can do for a while. The best thing is to stock up on some food before you go back to him.”

“Well…” Ydrel’s looked up and right—visual construction, Joshua thought—and his pupils narrowed momentarily. Then he nodded sullenly.

“Good. Let’s go. I’m starved.”

_*

Joshua waited until they got to the kitchen. “You OK?”

“Why’d you make me tell him it was OK to die?!” Ydrel burst out in reply.

Joshua sighed.
Here we go
. “Sometimes, people are ready to die, but they…hang on. Sometimes, they’re waiting for someone; sometimes, they’re scared of what will happen; sometimes, they’re more afraid of hurting someone.”

Ydrel flopped miserably into a chair. “You think he’s hanging on because of me?”

Joshua pulled up a chair, turned it around and sat with his arms draped over the back. “I don’t know. That’s why the rabbi’s here now, too. If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t the first time I’ve told someone something like that.”

“How can you stand it?”

“Ydrel, Isaac hasn’t really been living for a while now. And a lot of his days lately have been torturous—you know that more than any of us. It sounds cliché, but when he dies, he’ll finally find peace, even joy again.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do. He was a good man, and very faithful. God will take care of him.”

Ydrel pulled up his legs, resting his chin on his knees. “There were times, I wished he’d just die, so I wouldn’t have to share his memories, anymore. But now, I—” His voice caught. He looked away.

He looked very young and vulnerable sitting with his arms wrapped around his shins and his forehead resting on his knees, blond hair falling in wisps around his face. Still, Joshua made no move to comfort him. He’d refused Sachiko’s comfort; this was just something he needed to work through on his own. Joshua gave him a few minutes.

“Ydrel?” he asked when the tension in the boy’s hunched-up shoulders seemed to have relaxed a little. “You’ve got your radar focused on him, right?”

The psychic looked up, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I saw you do it. That means you have a choice. We can stay here and linger over lunch until after, or we can grab something fast and you can be with him through the end. You’ve done a lot for Isaac already, way more than anyone could have expected. Even Isaac knew that, or he wouldn’t have spent his last energy thanking you. No one would think less of you for not being there. It’s totally your decision.”

“Would you stay with me?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

He heaved a large sigh, then unfolded himself. “Then let’s grab something fast and go. I don’t think we have a lot of time.”