True Heroes (20 page)

              A smile returned to the doctor’s face before another drawer opened and an old manila folder appeared on the neat desk. “This is all I have on you: over a hundred pages of observations, disease names and patterns, and mathematic representations based on your early energy outputs.”

              “Math?” Doctor Fink pointed to a specific degree on his presented diploma diorama. Around the F-3 cross-section of the wall, a degree shined in the light reading “Mathematics.” ‘I guess he knows a little about that too.’ “Exactly how much energy was I pushing out when I was that little?”

              The top half of the folder flipped open to what looked to be a statistics page. “We kept you and your mother here for almost two months for observation. In that time span, your energy output nearly doubled from about a ten watt bulb to nineteen-and-a-half watts. We were afraid your mother was irradiated somehow during pregnancy, but she turned out to be just fine.”

              “Did you ever get the real cause of all this pinned down? You mentioned disease patterns before. Am I diseased?”

              Doctor Fink stifled a smile before it grew too wide. “Given your use of wording, I’d say no. Is there, however, an abnormality within your health that had never been seen before? Of course. We found multiple defects in your genetic code that all presented in very unusual cases. Asperger’s Syndrome, an odd representation of CHS and Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia, a one-of-a-kind mutation of chromosome fifteen and the conductive melanosomes in your iris. On top of everything, there’s a slight show of FD messing everything up.”

              A smile sprouted again on the doctor’s face. ‘How confused must I have looked to spring that smile so fast?’ “Sorry. In common language, you’ve got a bunch of DNA parts making other parts do weird things.

              ‘You can explain something like this so scientifically. Like I’m an addition problem that ended up in a little different equation.’ A slight rustling broke his thought. “Could you test me? See how far my power has come, and these diseases?”

              Doctor Fink stood and grabbed for his white coat. “I hope you don’t have any other plans for today.”

                            -                            -                            -                           

              Caleb fell into the chair. ‘So tired. Four hours of testing. Glad he’s not tired at all. Running forever, lifting, kicking, blood draws, heart monitors, breath-tests, stress-tests, bagel-test, endure-until-you-fall-test. Glad I wanted to know so damn badly.’

              “I bet that was fun for you.”

              A sarcastic smile flew from Caleb’s lips as the doctor sat down and opened a fresh manila folder full of results. Ignoring the look, Thomas scanned over everything for a few minutes before Caleb grew impatient enough to ask. “Anything you wanna share with me?”

              “Patience is a virtue, my boy.” A few sheets found their way to Caleb’s side of the desk before Doctor Fink began to explain. “I suppose we’ll start with the statistical data. Based on the sample of power you showed me, the proportion, disregarding error or lurking variables, would have that energy field of yours approximately pushing out upwards of half a million joules of energy, more than enough to stop a blue whale in its tracks with a single point. That’s when you have it extended. Now, when everything is inside your body, you seem to be able to focus nearly infinite separate points of that force anywhere you want, making unwanted penetration all but impossible by anything. Like I said, you have half a million joules constantly working under your will against anything that’s within the confines of your power field.

              “As far as where this comes from, well, you already know a little about that. All of your diseases are still in that improbable balancing scheme, and now I see how, exactly. Try to keep up with me on this one. Your Asperger’s gives you an ultra sensitivity to light, sights, sound, and everything else the senses can offer which is fueled by all your other diseases. Your other four balance out in a remarkably unique way. Your Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia increases the concentration of salt that is allowed within your muscles, making your body a much better conductor of electricity, and making your adrenaline more potent. The CHS defect causes more adrenaline glands to form than normal, making the more potent mixture more available. Familial Dysautonomia is the key; it’s your brain’s electrical disturbance, but since your brain is already confused and focused on sensory inputs rather than regulation, the increased activity with awareness allows you to willfully control the electrical signals when they increase. They do return to normal when your adrenaline isn’t pumping. Furthermore, your Abetalipoproteinemia allows for slowed metabolic rates, electrical signals, and bad absorption of vitamins and fats, which is then countered by the control of your will over the electrical currents and allows the pace of everything to be further accented by what your will demands.”

              Caleb stared blankly, into the doctor’s rimmed glasses. “Meaning…?” 

              An expected chuckle brought the current light in the doctor’s eyes up a few more watts. “This means you are a miracle of medicine. Plain and simple. The natural electricity inside your body is amplified, mixed with your potent, conductive adrenaline and allows for a sensitive field to extend from your body. It acts as a second skin where you’re conscious brain controls everything. That’s about as plainly as I can say it.”

              A few unanswered questions begged to be asked. “What about the visions I see sometimes in my power?”

              “Well, logically, they seem to be expressions of your mind. It has nothing to do you’re your melanosome mutation. That just absorbs more light as your field expands. However, since it is your mind that controls the confines of the power, it would make sense that your inner voice is expressing something. But I could be wrong. More than one of these diseases cause brain problems, so it’s possible that one of them caused the parietal lobe of your brain to…enhance somehow to allow for visions of the future. Since your sensory skills are far above anyone else’s in the world, it’s tough to say without proof.”

              Caleb smiled a bit and used his thumb to push a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “Asperger's…that’s Autism without some of the fun perks right?”

              “Yes, putting it snidely.” They exchanged a smile. “There’s actually a large difference between the two, especially at the genetic level.”

              “But I’m still supposed to have an area that I’m supremely focused in right?”

              “I think you do.”

              Caleb waited rather impatiently for any hint of his insight, but only received a stare. The boy looked down at his hands. ‘I’m back home, watching that brave man on CNN with Carol, feeling so horrible when he didn’t make it to his family’s desperate hands.’ “Winning? Or justice.”

              “Between those two, I would go with justice. From the stories I’ve heard, injustice seems to strike a nerve deeper than it does us normal people, which is what will make you a great hero,” the doctor said, smiling behind those last words. “Honestly, your focus might not have a word. Even with your mother’s death, you don’t seem to be wholly focused on correcting the injustice, since this would’ve been the last place you’d come. This shows me there’s something…more to what you’re doing. Whatever it is, I’m not sure I could find the word for it, but your mother will be proud.”

              Caleb flinched. “That was my fault, so it’s only right that I hate myself for that.”

              “No, no it wasn’t. I don’t care what the circumstances were; the gun was not in your hand. The only reason you feel so guilty is because you don’t think it was right that someone helpless died while you were off having fun, and that’s your disability amplifying how you already feel. That’s why I’m sure you’ve been drowning yourself in power over the past few weeks any time you’ve been alone.”

              Staring off into the meaningless patterns of the carpet, Caleb felt like hiding again. ‘That warming comfort inside power where emotions are well out of reach in my abyss is calling and pulling me again…. It’s been more and more tempting lately…. That whiskey bottle was full. The doctor doesn’t hide from his pain anymore. He faces and endures. Life looks less distorted outside the bottle, I’m sure. It probably sucks looking at life from underneath my genetic anti-depressant too.’ “The few times I’ve been myself, I’ve had to focus on training. Everything I do takes my mind off of the world and requires my undivided attention, or my mind drifts and I’m crippled again. I can’t let myself be crippled. For her and everyone else I haven’t failed yet.”

              “You’ve never failed your mother, son. And she certainly wouldn’t want you torturing yourself over this.” Doctor Fink leaned back in his chair and was lost to thought for a few seconds as Caleb’s stare finally shook from the carpet. “Follow me.”

              The doctor, still lost in thought, stood and didn’t wait for Caleb before walking briskly down the hall. Caleb caught up to him soon enough but remained a shadow. ‘There are too many thoughts running through that head.’ His body seemed to be on autopilot as Caleb followed; taking turns without looking up and gently moving to the side of oncoming gurneys and people. His head finally turned upward and addressed Caleb. “Here’s a group you could never let down.”

              Caleb looked around, vaguely aware they were back in the children’s wing, and saw nothing but a group of children through the traffic of the hospital. He carefully stepped and weaved to the other side of the aisle and into the colorful playroom full of medically sealed toys. His body turned towards the miniature playroom and his eyes scanned every inch. Half of the room was cut by a clear wall to Caleb’s side, housing a few bald children playing toss with a colorless beach ball. His front seemed more normal. ‘And more boring.’ The short-fiber carpet was a multishaded-white puzzle with the only table in the room having the spinning stripe pattern of a black and grey candy cane all the way up to the table top, which was a plain candy-apple red. Two nurses stood guard as eight little children ran around and fell together at random times. ‘Why the hell would I ever care about letting these kids down?’ “What are we doing here?”

              Thomas handed him a clipboard with a wrinkled schedule. ‘Autistic/Asperger’s. Found the reason.’ “These are your biggest fans, Caleb.”

              His anger instantly swallowed, Caleb cocked his head at the children. They didn’t quite play with the toys but rather tested them; moving, throwing, pushing and even talking to them to test their reactions. ‘Seems simple. Seems welcoming.’ A bouncy ball suddenly hit off the far wall and flew at Thomas’ face but stopped short in Caleb’s clasped hand. The nurses did nothing as the small girl who threw the ball started to walk towards the two men. Her down-turned head showed off her shined brown hair while her small feet shuffled across the strange carpet. Fink rifled through the nearby patient files and quietly read from hers. “Allison Krysta Dorrell: Asperger’s patient like you. At four years old she can already speak and write fluent English. We’re not sure what her focus is yet but she’s already well liked by almost every nurse and doctor she’s met.”

              Caleb knelt down and summoned a smile. “Is this yours?”

              The girl nodded slightly and tentatively reached for the ball while raising her head only a little. A small mutter caught Caleb by surprise, “Thank you….”

              Doctor Fink tried to spark up a conversation. “This is Caleb, Alice. He’s got the same disease as you.”

              She looked up but avoided eye contact. “Really?”

              “Yeah,” Caleb tried to not invade her shy nature but continued to attempt conversation, “that and a few extra ones. Do you go to school?” 

              ‘As always, everybody is watching, and nobody can turn away. Every move me and my power take is seen by all of them.’ The nurses and children alike quieted their activities and turned towards the small-voiced conversation. “Not yet. How old are you?”

              “Too old, kiddo. I’ll be graduating in a few weeks.”

              Her eyes finally connected with his, and the excitement emanating from her lovely brown eyes caught Caleb off guard. “You go to a real high school? With other not-sick kids?”

              Doctor Fink smiled down at them both. “Yes with hundreds of healthy children. He’s the top of his class and going on to college.”

              “What’s college?”

              “Do big kids go there?”

              “Ah!” A group of the autistic kids had rolled their heads loosely until they were looking—‘Actually looking,’—straight at Caleb. The nurses both gasped. He slowly stood then with every pair of eyes watching him unfurl into his full self, and he could almost feel the pride flowing from Doctor Fink’s smile. “All kids go there, healthy or not.” Caleb turned around. ‘I feel warm….’ The few seconds of adulation had passed quickly with him feeling nothing behind the baker’s dozen set of eyes. All he felt now, the image of his own kind looking up at him imprinted unto the back of his eyelids, was warm. No other specific feeling came to mind; he was simply warmer from the experience. ‘They’re probably just responding to my power anyways. Just like everyone else’

              He gave a half-smile to no one in particular as Doctor Fink closed the glass doors, the children still staring after Caleb’s turned back. The warmth was smoldering and had him leaning against a wall as the doctor turned and stuck his hands in his lab coat pockets. He let out an empty chuckle and shook his head. “I’ve seen the improbable in this hospital happen a lot over the years. Patients recover from nearly incurable diseases, a burn victim with eighty-percent of his body burnt walked out of here of his own power and when you caught my hand…well, that was nearly impossible. It used to be nice and boring here before you came along. Every time something rare came up, I would bring out some old formulas and see the actual probability of such an event happening. It was surprising how common some rarities really are. Your survival rate with one of your diseases drops below five percent; with all, it drops below a thousandth of a percent.” Caleb’s warmth was all but gone with the seriousness of the doctor’s tone. “Of course, you’ve given me so much more raw data today that I’ll have week’s worth of calculations to do.”