Of Royal Descent (14 page)

"Because of all the wonderfulness?"
I asked.

"That's just it, I don't know.  I got up and knocked on the door and asked if she was alright.  She bit my head off and asked me what I meant by that.  I said,
You're obviously upset
, and she denied it and refused to let me in."

"And you're positive she was crying?"

"Yes.  Positive."

"Ok, so then what
happened?"

"Well, eventually she came out of the bathroom and told me to take her to Addy's.  I got dressed and tried to approach her gently.  I touched her softly
, and you would have thought I was trying to kill her by the way she reacted.  After that, I kept my distance and just tried asking her questions.  Only she wouldn't answer them with real answers.  She just kept spitting out insults at me.  When she threatened to walk to Addy's, I got up and took her downstairs to the car."

As Chuck spoke, I noticed we had passed by our hotel. 

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"
I programmed the GPS for your grandfather's while I was waiting for you at Addy's.  You still wanna go, right?"

"Yeah, absolutely."
  I swallowed hard. 
No time like the present, I guess.

"So, anyway, when we get in the car, I start making every last ditch attempt to bring back the girl from the night before.  I mean, not the girl you saw, obviously.  But, she was...  She was different when it was just us last night."

"Yeah, uh, we got to witness a little of that ourselves," I said.

"No," said Chuck seriously, "
I mean she was
really
different when it was just us.  She was sweet.  She was nice.  She was... vulnerable."

I blinked, unable to imagine it.  Not really wanting to.

"So you're in the car, then what?"

"Well, she's not giving me any clues whatsoever, and it's driving me insane.  The more she resisted telling me, the more I wanted to know what upset her.  So, I started guessing."

I made the universal "ooh" face - the type of face one makes when he witnesses a stunt gone very wrong.  This didn't sound like it was going to be pleasant.

"I asked her if she were upset that we had had...
wonderfulness
together," Chuck said. 

"Okay, that sounds like a reasonable guess," I replied, nodding.

"Yeah, I thought so too.  Only she laughed and said I wasn't her first random
wonderfulness giver
."

"Harsh."

"Right?  I brushed it off and asked her if she were upset because I kept her away from the friend she drove from Cincinnati to see."

"Okay, that's not bad either."

"I know, right?  Only she got upset and accused me of accusing her of co-dependency!"  Chuck thumped the dash with his palm.

"Remember the breathing?"  I eyed Chuck.

"Sorry, she's just so...
infuriating
," he spat out.

We turned off the main strip onto a street we hadn't been down before.  I watched as unfamiliar businesses passed by.

"Okay, so by this time, we're pulling into Addy's apartment complex.  I knew I was running out of time.  I figured I had one guess left.  I threw out the only possible thing I could think of."

"Which was?"

Chuck sighed loudly.

"I asked her if she were upset because she thought I wouldn't want to date her since we already had
wonderfulness
."

"
Duuuude," I said, shaking my head.

"I know!  I know! 
Huge mistake.  I knew it as soon as it was out, but there was no pulling it back in once it was out there.  I was grasping at straws!"

"
Duuuude," I repeated.

"It's bad, I know.  But, I still think she over
-reacted."

"What did she say?"

"Well, when she stopped screaming, she proceeded to tell me why she would never date me."

"A long list, was it?"

Chuck turned to stare at me.  "Brutal," he answered.  "And there was really nothing else for me to do at that point.  There was no salvaging the conversation.  So... I may or may not have accused her of protesting too much and secretly being hot for me."

"Uh huh."

We parked curbside to a large building in a small business district and idled.

"That's all you got?  I was kind of hoping for some advice," he complained.

"Honestly?  What's the point?  I mean, it's kind of already over, isn't it?  It's not like you actually want to date her, right?"

Chuck stared down at his lap.

"Chuck?"

"Well, not the psychotic version.  But, you know, the other version was quite nice."

"I'm only acquainted with the one, so I'll have to take your word for it."

Chuck looked defeated.  I had never seen this side of him.  Usually after hooking up with a girl, he wasted no time in shaking off unwante
d sentiment.  I felt badly for him.  He was clearly at a loss for how to proceed.

"Look, if you really want to get with this girl, the first thing you have to do is quit threatening to shake her or harm her in any way.  Can you do that?"

Chuck stared at me.

"Chuck?!"

"Yes, okay, yes, I can do that."

"
Secondly, you need to go apologize to her."

"For what!?" he ask incredulously.

"Well, how about for pressing her to share something she wasn't ready to share with you yet?  Or you could apologize for being a giant asshat when you implied you may have lost interest in her after... having
wonderfulness
together."

"I guess," he said sullenly.  "Do you have
a third option?"

"Or you could apologize for not making it clear to her that you were, in fact, very interested in seeing her again.  And before you give her a chance to respond, include that you will respect her decision, whatever it
may be.  If she says she doesn't want to see you again, you have to be able to let it go.  I can’t possibly imagine you being happy if you have to beg her for scraps of affection."

He leaned back against his seat.

"Yeah, I guess," he said.

"Chuck, where are we?"

We'd been idling on the side of the road for the past several minutes.

He looked around, surveying our surroundings. 

"We're here.  This is the address Caring Hearts gave us."

"I don't see a house," I said, pointing out the obvious.

Chuck ducked his head to get a better look at the building we were idling in front of.

"Highland Disorder and Abnormality Study Rehabilitation Clinic.
  Wow, that's quite the mouthful," Chuck said, reading the black, capital letters fixed to the front of the building.

"I don't understand.  This doesn't make any sense."  I stared up at the looming
, gray, stone slab building. 

"Why don't we just go in and ask someone at the door if they recognize your grandfather's name?" suggested Chuck. 

It seemed logical.  I mean, we
were
already here.  It would've been a waste just to turn around and leave.

The way I saw it, there were only a few possible outcomes in relation to this new development.  One, my grandfather was a patient here.  Which m
ight explain some things, but it sure wouldn't serve to make the meeting less awkward. 

Two, my grandfather was an employee here.  That would make an even more awkward situation than if he were a patient.  I didn't relish the thought of introducing myself to him at his place of employment, in front of his peers. 

Three, no one would have ever heard of him before.  I was furtively hoping for what was behind curtain number three.  If I met with a dead end, I would be able to dust my hands of the whole situation.  And I could even do it with a sense of accomplishment.  I would have done everything in my power to chase down my sole lead to my biological family tree.  But a dead end would be just that, a dead end.  I would have no other bread crumb trails to follow, and I could turn all of my attention to dating Addy.

I looked at Chuck and realized he was still waiting for my answer.

"I think that's pretty much our only option at this point."

"Okay, let me drive around back
, and I'll see if there's off-street parking," he said, preparing to merge back into traffic.

"No, wait," I said.

I appreciated everything Chuck had done to get me here, but I found myself wishing I was alone.  None of the three scenarios would be any less awkward by including him.

"Why don't you drop me here?  I'll go in and see if there's anything to find out and you can go and try to talk with Kai."

Chuck eyed me suspiciously.  "What if no one knows him?  You'll be stranded."

"If it turns out nobody knows him, I'll need some time alone to think.  The hotel isn't that
far of a walk."  I shrugged, striving for indifference. 

Chuck didn't look convinced.

"Look, regardless of the situation, I'll meet you back at the hotel in an hour and a half, tops.  If I'm not back by then, you can come get me."

"Okay, if you're sure that's what you want to do," he said, reserving whatever
further opinion he may have held on the subject.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, looking back through the window at our general surroundings.  "You know," I continued, "I kind of thought my d
- Russell and Gretchen might have shown up."

"Yeah, so did
I.  It doesn't seem likely they forgot, considering the trouble they took to get here," Chuck agreed.  "Do you want me to watch you to the door?"

"No," I shook my head calmly.  "If they were waiting f
or me, I'd know," I said matter-of-factly.

"I'd ask you how, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know," he said with a
half-smile.

I cracked my door and set my right foot on the sidewalk.  "I'll see you soon," I said, turning to look at Chuck.

"An hour and a half," he said, nodding.  I nodded back and exited the car.  Shutting the door, I turned to face the clinic.  After a few steps, I heard the Dodge drive away.

13

I pulled open one side of the glass double doors that led to the lobby of the clinic and stepped inside.  With its cheap, gray carpeting and beige-covered walls, it was almost like any other lobby, except for one thing.  Three armed guards stood in a line before the single elevator door.  And they were all staring at me intently.

My first instinct was to run, but I brushed it away.  I just wanted to get it over with, so I could stop obsessing about it.  I took a step toward the line of guards. 
Was it my imagination, or had one of them brushed his hand over his gun?

I cleared my throat.  "Excuse me
.  I'm looking for a William Clark.  I was given this address for him."

"What's your name?" asked the large guard on the right.  He looked at me warily
, and once again, I felt compelled to flee.

"Doyle Hawthorne."

The guard unclipped a two-way radio from his belt while the other two exchanged glances.

"Doyle Hawthorne is here sir.  He
’s asking about William Clark," he spoke softly into his radio.

A disembodied voice floate
d through the speaker.  "Please show Mr. Hawthorne to the waiting room."

"This way, sir," the guard directed at me
.  He pushed the down arrow on the elevator and moved aside for me to enter ahead of him.

I crossed through the doors and stepped back, allowing him to
follow.  The other two guards remained in the lobby.  The doors closed, and the guard pressed a button marked LL2.

"Please insert code now," a robotic voice spoke from a location I wasn't able to pinpoint.

The guard made a couple of passes with his right hand over a small keyboard embedded into the wall.  It must have been the right code, as we began our descent to a lower floor.

The guard stood with his back pressed to the wall and continued to stare at me. 
Well that's just rude
, I thought.  I stared back. 

"Sup?" I asked with a slight head nod.

The guard looked neither amused nor inclined to answer.  Normally, this would be exactly the kind of thing I would choose to ignore.  I would have let it roll off me without a second thought.  But this guy, I don't know, maybe I just didn't like the cut of his jib.

"I'm a little concerned myself," I said.  "I think I may have picked up something from a girl back home a few weeks ago.  Hey," I leaned in conspiratorially, "Do you know if I should be at all concerned if these warts are contagious?" I asked bringing my completely benign hand in close proximity to the guard.

Obviously, I had just been messing with the guy.  So, I'll admit, I was surprised when he pulled out his gun and trained in on my forehead.

"Get away from me you freak!" he snapped. 

I slowly slid back against the opposite wall and surveyed the guard.  He was a big guy, who obviously took the time to work out.  He was taller than me, and he had a weapon.  And yet, he looked scared.  Even more confusing to me, was that I was not.

"Boo," I whispered, slowly breaking into a slow smile. 
What the hell was wrong with me?  Why was I acting like this? 
My mind was telling me to shut up and keep my head down, but my body refused to comply.

The elevator ground to a halt
, and the doors slid apart, revealing an empty, well-lit room.  The guard jerked his head in the direction of the doors, motioning for me to step out of the elevator.  I did as requested.  He remained inside, and the doors closed, separating us.  After a moment, I heard a whirring from the elevator shaft and knew he was making his way back up the building.

I walked to a stiff
, white couch and sat down on the edge.  No sooner had my jeans made contact with a couch cushion when a man entered through the door.

"Mr. Hawthorne!  It's so good to see you.  We've been expecting you!" 

It was the level of excitement in his voice that caused me to jump from the couch more than anything else.  He extended his hand and shook mine in a most welcoming fashion. 

He was such a contradiction to the guard and to what I was subsequently expecting, I was momentarily taken aback.  He appeared downright jovial, with his broad grin and twinkling eyes.  There was
an energy about him, one of such good humor, that I thought I could almost taste it.

"Nice to meet you," I said.  My unexplainable rage that had started culminating in the elevator had completely dissipated.

"Well, shall we get started?" the man asked eagerly.

"Started?"

"Oh, I'm sorry.  Where are my manners?  My name is Edgar Bradbury.  I'm the clinical director which means I oversee the studies and care for all the patients here.  We've been expecting you for some time now and are thrilled to finally meet you."

I stood dumbfounded.  When I was able to regain the power of speech, I said, "Well, maybe aside from a few guards."  I laughed, intending it to be a joke.  However, Bradbury's eyes darkened.

"If you have been ill-treated in any way, they will be severely dealt with," he reassured me.

"No, no, it's fine," I said, unwilling to describe the bizarre episode in the elevator.

"Good.  You are most welcome here.  Would you like to see your grandfather now?"  Bradbury appeared to relax, returning once again to his jolly self.

"My grandfather, is he a patient here?" I asked, already knowing the answer.  My sixth sense had begun emitting various signals since I first entered the building.  But some signals were
clearer than others.  I had known my grandfather resided at the clinic before I had exited the elevator.

"Oh, yes.  And I daresay he is one of our finest study specimens.  We have learned so much from William."

"So, he's sick?" I asked.

"
I guess that depends on who you ask.  I consider your grandfather healthier than the mass population.  You know what they say,
in the eye of the beholder
," he said, giving me a wink.

"I don't understand.  Why is he here if he's not sick?"

"William is here voluntarily, so the nation's leading experts can study his condition.  We've made excellent progress since he has come to our facility," replied Bradbury, practically bursting with pride for his clinic.

"But what exactly is his condition?  Is it a disease? 
A disorder?  The flu?" 
Why couldn't this guy just give me a straight answer?

"William has an extremely rare genetic disorder.  He's not in danger of falling ill, rather
, he possesses qualities that make him superior to others," Bradbury answered, eyes shining with unbridled fascination.

"
Is it like those people who develop brain tumors and get really smart?  Something like that?"

Bradbury gave a deep, hearty laugh, reminding me of Santa C
laus.  All he was lacking was the big, red suit.

"My boy, this is something you will have to see to believe.  Shall we?"  He walked to the door and held it open. 

My sixth sense, ESP, third eye, or whatever you wanted to call it, had grown from emitting signals to radiating out a low vibration.  That could have been helpful in making my decision to follow or not follow Bradbury, had I been able to decipher what the vibrations meant.

When I hesitated, he looked thoughtful.

"At this moment, William is under sedation.  We're monitoring him for possible triggers for unintentional flare-ups.  In his current state, he will not know you are there."

Bradbury had known exactly what to say.  I was ashamed to admit it, but I was afraid to meet William.  Although I couldn't provide any logical reasons for it, I was
scared.  That he wouldn't even know I was there was extremely tempting.

I stepped past
Bradbury into the hallway.

"This is most exciting," he said with enthusiasm.

I followed behind him to the end of the narrow corridor to another elevator.  He hit the down arrow, and we climbed in.  The button marked LL3 lit up as Bradbury pressed it, and the same robotic voice filtered down to us. 

"Please insert code now."

Bradbury punched at the keypad in a ham-handed manner, and we began to slide further into the bowels of the clinic.

"
You said this was a genetic disorder.  Does that mean I could have it someday?"  I asked.

He paused before answering
.  He seemed to be searching for just the right words.

"True, it is genetic, but there are other factors involved.  You would have to meet all of the criteria before
developing the full-blown disorder."  Satisfied with his answer, he turned back to face the doors to the elevator.

"Full-blown disorder?
  What exactly does that mean?  Is it possible to have half a disorder?"

The elevator slowed to a stop
, and we filed out into a white, nondescript hallway.

"Tell me Doyle, have you been experiencing anything
unusual
lately?" he asked.

A prickling in my subconscious told me he already knew the answer.

"As a matter of fact, yes, a couple things," I answered warily.

"What you've been experiencing is what we refer to as The Shadow Effect.  It's a sampling, or a glimpse, of what having the disorder would be like, but on a much smaller scale of course."  He began walking toward a door near the end of the hallway
, and I matched his pace.

"The most common shadows are feelings o
f intense rage, hunger, or lust - really, any of the carnal desires.  Some of our recent studies suggest jealousy should be considered wholly separate from rage.  It's very interesting."

We reached the door
, and Bradbury placed his hand on a screen that was mounted beside the door handle.  There was a sound of a click, and he opened the door.

"There are, of course, more shadows than those.  Depending how potent the dormant virus is, the patient could experience a wide range of symptoms."  Bradbury walked into the next room
, and I followed behind.

"Like what?" I asked, pressing the subject.

"Nausea and vomiting are also common.  Vivid dreaming, dizziness and syncope, pain in the gums and teeth, and sensitivity of the five senses are all fairly standard concerning The Shadow Effect."

I inwardly shuddered as I mentally checked off each symptom. 

Bradbury eyed me in a pleasant, almost fatherly, manner.  "You have experienced all of these, correct?"

"Are there any others?" I asked, side-stepping his question. 

He turned and made his way to the other side of the room, where the entire opposite wall was made of glass.  This allowed for unhindered viewing into the next area.

"
In more extreme cases, patients have displayed self-healing properties, cyanosis, vocal changes, heightened sixth sense, eye shift, difficulty understanding or speaking their first language, uncontrolled shrieking, increased climbing capabilities, increased strength, and increased speed.  And in two documented cases, the patients claimed they had experienced a controversial seventh sense.  Of course, there is no way to scientifically prove the existence of a seventh sense."

"Wait, wait,
back up.  Let's go in order.  What's cyanosis?"

Bradbury smiled. 
"Turning blue."

I swallowed.  "Okay, what
’s eye shift?"

"
That one is a bit harder.  When a patient has this disorder, at times their eye sockets will expand, or shift, causing the eyes to appear larger.  At the same time, the non-oxygenated blood in the brain, which is partially coagulated and thickened, will coat the cornea, causing the eye to appear black.  The research suggests this is one of the many self-defense mechanisms brought on in times of heightened stress.  I'm sure you can imagine what an unsettling effect this would have on someone, usually leaving them momentarily paralyzed with fear."

"What you're describing - that doesn't exist.  It's impossible," I replied, shaking my head.  "You said thick,
non-oxygenated blood in the brain causes it.  That only happens when a person is dead, right?"

Bradbury smiled sadly.  "
Come; let us see William before he wakes."

I walked to the glass divider and peered into the room.  There were a myriad of machines, doing God knew what, that lined the walls.  There were a couple people in white lab coats hovering around one of the machines.  They had glanced our way when we had first entered the room but had since returned their attention to their work.

"I don't see him," I said scanning the room from end to end a second time.

"We have to go in to see him.  He's in a booth at the moment."

Bradbury walked to the end of the glass and pushed open an equally transparent door.  He entered, holding the entryway open for me.