American Mutant (19 page)

It took a short time for Quenton to stop laughing. “You named the dog Barf?”

Connor smiled at the phone. “You know Nate and his names. The dog liked it, so I didn’t object.”

“Put Williams on, and have a good night Thomas. I will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks Derek.” Connor handed Williams the phone, which she took hesitantly.

“Williams here.”

“Director Quenton here Williams. Do you like your job at the Center?”

“Ah.yes sir.”

“Good, because if you want to ever work another day in your life, you better get out of Agent Connor’s way, and never, ever interrupt any action taken by him again. I should suspend you for insubordination. I left word to the effect Agent Connor was to be passed through with his companion. It appears everyone around you understood my orders. Do you understand your duty now?”

Connor watched William’s face turn ashen as she listened to Quenton. She finally mumbled an ‘I understand’, and handed Connor back his phone. She turned to go back behind the desk, but Connor stopped her.

“Officer Williams, are you forgetting something?”

Williams turned back red faced to Connor. “Sorry to have stopped you Sir, have a nice evening.”

Connor nodded, and she returned to the front desk. He could see on the other Guard’s face he had loved every second of the exchange. He shuffled papers in front of him to avoid anything to do with Williams as she came back. Connor shook his head wonderingly as he tugged Barf into action. Some people, he thought, seemed intent on making things miserable for the people around them, almost at any cost. He stopped and called back over his shoulder.

“Did Dr. Blakely already check out for the evening?”

“No Sir,” William’s companion said, as he looked over his sign out sheet. “I believe she is still in her new office.”

“She has a new office huh?”

“Yes Sir,” he replied, as he scribbled something on a piece of paper, and stretched with it over the desk. “Here’s the room number Mr. Connor.”

Connor smiled, and took the paper. “Thank you.”

Both guards watched Connor walk away with his dog. Williams turned to her co-worker. “You are such a suck up Eric.”

“That was not sucking up you moron,” Eric replied. “It was respect. I was one of the guards at the door, when they tried to test Connor’s abilities. Let me tell you this Carol, I do not know what Connor is, but whatever it may be, I am glad he is on our side. He left an entire room full of Special Forces trained operatives unconscious in less than a minute. Stay out of his way.”

Williams stared at him for a moment, and then turned back to her work without comment.

Connor found Karen’s new office. The outer door was open. It led into a large waiting room with a secretarial desk, which was unoccupied. He walked past it and knocked on the door to the next room. He heard Karen say to come in. He entered the door with Barf just as Karen looked up. She gasped in surprise, and rushed around the desk. She dropped down and wrapped her arms around the appreciative dog’s neck.

“Oh my God Thomas, where in the world did you get him?”

Connor related the story to her as she stroked the dog and checked him for tenderness. She watched Barf wince as she felt along his rib cage and stomach. She stood up as Connor finished his story.

“Barf, what the hell kind of a name is that?”

“A Nate Johnson name. The dog seemed to like it, so I didn’t object. You want to call him something else?”

Karen shook her head. “No, I guess it fits in some weird way. If the dog knew what frying pan he has jumped into from the last, he would probably barf.”

“Not funny,” Connor replied in mock indignation. “Barf here thinks he has woken up from a dark period of his life to a veritable bed of roses, right Barf?”

The dog did a short bark on cue to Karen’s delight.

“I have to take Barf here to our room for the night, and feed and water him. Want to have some soup over at my place before you go home?” Connor asked.

“Sure, I just have to lock up here,” Karen answered.

“This new assistant director’s office really must be nice for you. I guess this must be a step up from your other cubby hole,” Connor remarked.

“I have to admit I love this office,” Karen said, looking around. “I look forward to coming in to work now. Reading over your adventures over the last few days has taken up some of my lab time though. Derek wanted my view on where we could go next, and how best to handle your FBI adventure. With the information on people he has now, thanks to you, it was a snap. Anything else happen I should know about?”

“Nate and I had a run in with an old acquaintance of his. I guess you could say we ended up skirting one problem and ending another one. You have probably heard about the mysterious death of a rather famous black minister who also dabbled in race extortion, right?”

“Yes,” Karen answered, holding her hands over her face in mock fear, “I did. You had something to do with that?”

Connor explained the circumstances and his eventual solution. “I cannot say I am optimistic about our little helper’s retirement, but I did not want anything more to do with this minister if I could help it.”

“You must really trust me now to tell me all this without checking to see if the room might be bugged.”

Connor smiled, but did not speak.

Karen watched his eyes and then shook her head. “You can tell if we are bugged, can’t you?”

“I hate to cut down on my trust for you in your eyes,” Connor admitted, “but yes, I can tell. Come on, and let’s go have some chicken noodle soup.”

“Hmmm… hmmm… good.”

Chapter 21 Fabric Of Existence
 

After Connor had a chance to put down bowls of water and food for Barf, he took a blanket off of his bed and put it down on the floor. Barf hungrily finished off three quarters of the food, and then drank half of the water. He sniffed the blanket for a few seconds, crossed over to Connor’s bed, hopped up on top of the bed cover, snorted and lay down with his head on his paws. Both Karen and Connor laughed at the dog’s choice.

“It appears your mutant abilities do not impress everyone.”

“No,” Connor sighed. “It looks like I will be getting no respect in my own room tonight.”

Connor heated the soup on the stove, and set out a package of crackers. He made coffee, and poured them both a cup before serving the rest of their simple dinner. They sat eating quietly. Connor glanced back at Barf through the open bedroom door occasionally. The dog had begun to snore lightly, which provoked more laughter.

“Great, he snores,” Connor observed.

“You can always sleep out here on the blanket with the bedroom door shut,” Karen suggested.

“Thanks for your input.”

“Seriously Thomas, what has been happening as far as your abilities go. How in the world would you be able to detect a bug in a room?”

Connor sipped his coffee for a moment as he searched for a way to answer. “Did you ever see the movie
Matrix?”

“Yes, but the world we exist in is not a computer program.”

“I can sense the fabric of existence Karen. The longer I have to work on it, the more complex and honed my ability becomes. I can sense no end in sight. Whether electronic or thought provoked, I can feel any attention directed at me. I feel the pulse of everything around me.”

“How do you maintain sanity with that kind of bombardment?”

“I control the signal in volume,” Connor explained, “by the intensity directed at me, or those around me. I will be ready to go overseas soon to handle some of the real threat at its origin. I will be getting the new super computers tomorrow to help with some of the research I need to do.”

“You mean that when you walk down a crowded street, you can detect danger with hundreds of people around you?” Karen asked.

“They are not all thinking about me Karen,” Connor explained. “If anything, they act like a conduit for the thought concentrated towards me.”

“You are giving me a headache my dear,” Karen sighed. “When you speak of a fabric of existence, you speak as if we are all part of the same thing.”

“In a way, we are,” Connor replied. “Everything exists on a similar plane at the atomic level, right?”

“Theoretically yes, but.”

“Living things just exist as a more heated and intense atomic structure,” Connor continued. “Thoughts generated in this fabric give off heat and force. I am becoming more adept at reading the flow in this fabric.”

“That kind of explains why you can project an image,” Karen said thoughtfully. “You show it like a movie of a certain flow. It also helps in visualizing your ability to phase through solid objects.”

“Exactly,” Connor said appreciatively.

“What would stop you from altering reality?” Karen asked, leaning forward.

“Nothing,” Connor replied. “I can already do it on a visual and audio plane when I change my physical appearance.”

“You are one scary piece of work Thomas,” Karen remarked. “Can you teach this power?”

“No, because I do not know what happened to me to allow me to bring it about. The anger, outrage, and grief, coupled with the years of isolation, opened a different door to reality for me.”

“I just wish I could share it with you,” Karen said.

A haunted look came over Connor’s countenance, something Karen had never seen before. “No, because you would also have had to share the journey there.”

“Sorry Thomas, I know.”

“No Karen, you cannot know nor do I want you to know. I never talk about my wife and daughter to anyone, because nothing in existence can take away the pain. I am cursed with a photographic memory. I can see every moment I shared with my little girl as if she were right here before me, and yet just beyond my grasp. I can see her tottering down the street at just over a year old, dressed as a devil for Halloween, with her little plastic pumpkin in one tiny hand, and her pitchfork in the other, pausing every other step to look back to see if I were still with her.”

Karen reached across the table and grabbed hold of Connor’s hand. “You can have another life Thomas. You can have another child.”

“Maybe,” Connor replied, “but I wonder if I can feel like that again. Some paths are dangerous to return to, not for me, but for others around me. So many good things have happened in the last few days, I almost see a sign in what has happened which gives me hope. I am afraid I am like everyone else in that I begin to fear for everything I care about when things go so well.”

“You call all that you have been through in the last week things going well?” Karen said, shaking her head.

“Maybe not the trips, but the destinations turned out well,” Connor said defensively.

“You mean like the trip you sent me on at first?”

“Man, between you and Nate, I am beginning to think you two are connected. Turn that record over will you. You can blame arrogance for your little adventures at the beginning. You have changed quite a bit since then too Karen.”

Karen started to speak, but instead came over and sat down on Connor’s lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you think Barf would mind if we consummated our dinner here right in front of him?”

“I do not believe he will mind,” Connor replied, stroking her face lightly with his hand.

“Good, do not let anything alter this reality for the next few moments, okay?”

“I will do my best,” Connor replied happily.

Connor sat in the middle of the floor in the dark. The power of the fabric, which he had tried to explain to Karen earlier, flowed powerfully around him as he let it wash up against him like an ocean wave. He could sense the threads of life and passion broiling in this sea of liquid structure. His thoughts surged in the flow, and time itself became like a translucent barrier he could see through. The whine, which echoed to him through the sea made him smile, and he allowed himself to come back fully into his physical plain. Barf stood next to the door looking back at him, and then at the door whining. Connor stood up and got a plastic bag and a piece of cardboard to use as a scoop. He grabbed Barf s leash on the way over to him.

Traffic at this time of night at the Center was minimal, which allowed Connor to move through the building without encountering more than a handful of people. The entryway guards only smiled as he led the dog outside. A rather large garden wound around the Center with a small border of grass. Barf leaped around when let off the leash, streaking from bush to bush. Connor dutifully followed the dog around cleaning up the inevitable solid waste into the plastic bag. He smiled, thinking of what Nate would think of his friend, the mutant freak, gathering up dog poop in the grass.

Connor deposited the waste in an outside trash bin, and then walked the now re-leashed Barf out the gate and down the street for a walk.

The further he moved away from the Center, the more focused he became on the sights and sounds around him. He could feel the lines of everyday life everywhere around him. The lines contained passion and anger, but not so much of the base evil, of some of the people, held within the Center as prisoners. Connor no longer filtered the flow as he had to at the Center. He walked on for an hour, with the dog happily trotting along beside him. No monsters haunted his steps or his thoughts as he walked. No new beast launched itself out of the darkness to threaten Connor’s small time of peace. For an hour, Connor walked his dog just like an ordinary man. He started back to the towers and the guards, thinking he would be glad when he was able to only come there to meet with Derek, or Karen.

Barf suddenly tensed next to Connor, and Connor realized he had daydreamed himself into danger. He sensed it, and then heard the growl. Finally, a black pit bull could be seen charging towards them from across the street. Connor could see the dog as it passed under the streetlights on its way. Black and brown, the huge dog tore at them without hesitation. Sighing hugely, Connor began to move in front of Barf as the dog drew near. Just as the dog got within five feet of Connor, Barf flew past him and covered the whole half of the charging dog’s head at the ear with one snap of his jaws. The Pit Bull shrieked in agony as Barf locked tight. Connor heard angry voices approaching, and he touched Barf lightly on the back. Barf released the dog, and it charged off back towards the sound of the voices, yipping in pain as he went. Connor looked down at Barf, who now sat peacefully next to him.

“Nicely done there Barf old boy. I guess I don’t need to over protect you. From now on when you get attacked, I’ll just get the hell out of your

way.”

Barf looked at him, and gave out a short bark of agreement, and then looked back across the street. Three black men were now heading across the street, yelling at him. One of them held a leash, which Connor thought would have saved everyone a little trouble if it had been on the dog. Barf began to tense, and his lips drew back in a snarl. Connor knelt down and stroked his head as the men approached.

“I’ll handle this part my friend.” Connor stroked him, and Barf as if sensing his meaning, began to relax.

“Hey mother fucker,” the large black man with a goatee and a beret called angrily. “What the fuck happened to my dog asshole?”

“My dog Barf here,” Connor replied reasonably, “saw your dog charging at us without a leash on. Not wanting to get you into trouble for not leashing your dog, Barf explained to your dog why he should never attack a strange dog who might be able to kick his ass.”

The two other men behind the goatee began to laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” the goatee yelled at his companions.

“C’mon Al, the dude’s right,” the one on his right said. “Rufus just got an attitude adjustment. No need to make this a war.”

“Fuck you, I want this prick to pay.”

“Pay for what,” Connor asked. “You should pay my dog for keeping you out of trouble.”

Again the goatee’s companions laughed at their friend’s expense. For his part, the goatee turned away from his friends and launched a fist at Connor. Connor caught it in midair and began to squeeze. The goatee quickly went to his knees with a yelp of pain. The two friends stopped laughing. Connor held up his other hand to them.

“I think we can say goodnight gentlemen without anyone getting hurt any further. What do you guys think?”

“Yea man, no need for anymore of this,” one of them agreed, and the other nodded.

“I am going to release your friend’s hand. Can you two make sure he goes along with you? Someone will get real hurt if he turns back after me.”

“Sure, we’ll take him. He don’t look too hot to follow you anyway,” the man laughed.

Connor released goatee’s hand, and stepped back with Barf at his side. Goatee fell forward, cradling his throbbing hand. His two friends pulled him to his feet.

“Let me go God damn it,” goatee shouted at his friends, even as he still gripped his hand.

His friend stopped and shook his shoulder. “Listen you stupid fuck, the man’s givin’ you the chance to leave without anymore trouble.”

“We can take this white cracker mother fucker!”

“Whoa there Holmes, you got a turd in your pocket?” his other companion asked. “First off, you go it alone if you want more. Secondly,” he glanced back at Connor, “I ain’t too sure we could help you anyhow, and I ain’t findin’ out.”

Both men released their friend, and stepped back. The goatee whipped around to face Connor again. Connor, for his part shook his finger gently at the goatee. “Don’t do it Al. Things can only get a whole lot worse for you. Say goodnight, and let bygones be bygones.”

Goatee looked back at his friends. They smiled, and took another step away from him. Goatee took one more look back at Connor angrily, “fine, I’ll deal with this fuck some other time.”

A split second later, goatee was hanging with his feet swaying off of the ground, and Connor holding him up by the neck as if he were a rag doll. The goatee grabbed Connor’s hands to try and get them from his neck as his eyes began to bulge. It was like grabbing hold of a steel cable. One of the friends stepped towards Connor, but stopped in his tracks, as Connor again held up his free hand in a stop gesture, and turned to look at him with the coldest eyes he had ever seen, all the while holding the goatee up in the air.

“Please man,” the goatee’s companion pleaded. “Al’s just talkin’.”

“I do not take threats well. Perhaps Al means what he says, and I cannot have that.”

“He’s got a wife and three kids,” the other man added. “He’s a decent father and husband. He ain’t going to do nothin’ man. You can let him live.”

Connor looked back at the man hanging in front of him. He released him, choking and gasping, to the ground. The goatee held his throat, and continued to cough air back into his lungs. Connor knelt down next to him.