Supernormal (18 page)
“I’m thinking we should prep your house,” Meg said on the way back. Brody glanced at her. “Extra locks on the doors, bolt the furniture to the floor, maybe even bars on the windows, if you don’t think that’s overkill.”
“No,” Brody said.
Meg shrugged. “Fair enough. We’ll need to stop by the house for my tools.”
“Is that—that’s not necessary,” Ashley said. “I’m getting better.”
“It’s not,” Brody said.
“I thought, for Proom,” Meg said, raising an eyebrow at Brody. She turned around in her seat to face Ashley. “You are doing well, here, with us, and from one or two hints you and Smiley here dropped on occasion, I got the impression that if Mr. Proom—”
“Doctor.” Ashley and Brody spoke at the same time, Brody managing to make the title sound like a curse.
“—thinks you’re doing well, you might have to leave us.”
“Which is not going to happen,” Cam said.
“‘Course it isn’t,” Meg agreed.
“It doesn’t matter,” Brody cut in savagely. “We do not need to do anything because that is our home, and that man is not setting foot inside it.”
“No, go on, tell us how you really feel,” Meg murmured.
“How I really feel cannot be expressed in words. I might be able to manage it with the toolbox under the sink.”
“I don’t think Nate’d like that.”
“As if I’d leave anything for him to find.”
Cam began, “Liz was…”
“Normal.” Brody nodded.
“We’re sure?” Cam asked. “She is really good at sports.”
“Just because a girl can knock the cover off a ball doesn’t mean she’s a superhero,” Meg said. “I’d like to think I can swing a sledgehammer pretty good without that making me the Lady Hulk.”
“She-Hulk,” Ashley corrected quietly. Then, “Maybe he took her to use against Danny.” Her hands tightened in her lap. “That’s what Proom does. He uses people.”
But Brody shook his head. “He wanted someone to hold against Danny, he’d have gone for Susan. She’s back and forth in the hospital parking lot each day, which does not have the proper coverage it should, and, no offense to Liz, but she’s his mom. Kid in Danny’s position—no dad, younger sibling to take care of—you always go for the mom. Cripple the family, put Danny in the position of having to take care of Whitney, think of what’s best for her, not just himself—” Brody caught them staring and gave a bitter smile. “It’s what I would do.”
“We can only hope Proom isn’t as cold-blooded as you,” Meg said.
“He is,” Brody said.
Ashley spoke up. “Meg and Cam should go. They shouldn’t spend time with us anymore. Not if Proom is coming.”
“Odds are Proom knows about Cam already. You two have been spending too much time together for him not to have done his homework.”
Meg glanced at Cam through the rearview mirror. “Do you want me to get him out of town?”
Cam shook his head. “I’m not going to run from him.”
“It probably wouldn’t do you good anyway,” Brody said. “Actually, I was going to suggest you and Cam come stay with us for a couple days. I’d feel better if I knew where the two of you were,” he told her in a low voice.
“You just want me to cook for you,” Meg said, and Brody grinned, though it was brief.
“Well, there’s that, too.”
“All right, then,” Meg said, and she nodded in the direction of her house. “Run us by home, and we’ll grab some things.”
It was late afternoon by the time they settled Meg and Cam at Brody’s, and Meg helped Ashley peel off the bandages that the hospital made her wear, more there for show and because the doctors were paranoid—and, okay, a little confused—than because she needed them. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, at the new additions to her collection of scars—fresh and pink and puckered, not quite hidden by the gift-shop tank top Meg had picked up for her at the hospital. It would be easier to sit here and wait for Proom and tell him that she wanted to go back. And she was so tired.
Instead she went to find Brody. “I thought I’d head over to Danny’s.” Brody glanced up at her. “I need to talk to him.”
“You just got back from having four bullets dug out of you. You should rest,” he said.
“I don’t need to rest. I need to talk to Danny.”
Brody pushed himself out from under the sink and wiped his hands on a rag. “Want me to come with?”
Ashley shook her head. “Thanks. But—no.”
“All right. But I want you to ask Danny to stop by tomorrow or the day after. I want to give him some tips, stuff to do in case something happens.”
Cam followed her out the front door. “I’d like to come, too.”
“I don’t need a dogsitter,” Ashley said, but she was too exhausted to make it hurt. Besides, she did want Cam with her.
“Good, because my rates are astronomical,” he replied. “Danny’s my friend,” he added. “I’d like to go.”
Ashley nodded.
Danny was not at his home, but Whitney, trying hard not to stare at Ashley’s new scars, told them to check out Tyler’s, he was probably there.
“Everyone’s going to be staring at my chest now,” Ashley said as they headed to Tyler’s. The sidewalk was hot under her bare feet.
“It’s not every day you see someone strolling around with four new bullet holes,” Cam remarked carefully. He glanced at her. “Did it hurt?”
“Yes,” Ashley said.
He didn’t look at her now. “I had hoped, with everything they did to you—the speed, the healing. I hoped they might have given you something to take away the pain.”
“No,” Ashley said. “It always hurts.”
Cam paused at a red light even though there was no traffic. He always did. And looked both ways when the light went green. It made Ashley want to smile.
“I wish it didn’t,” he said. “I wish—” Cam let out a hard breath. “I just wish I could do something.”
“You are,” Ashley said. “You’re going with me to Danny’s.”
Danny and Tyler were sitting on the doorstep. They looked up as she and Cam approached, and Ashley managed not to dig her heels in, or to turn and run. She wanted to, but she didn’t.
This wasn’t a good idea. She needed to see Danny, and Tyler, to face them and apologize, but now that she was walking towards them she wished she’d waited. To shower and change, have at least some time to prepare herself. To deal with the fact that she was going to feel like absolute shit.
She was wrong. She didn’t feel like shit. She felt worse. Ashley realized that Cam’s hand was in hers, and she held on.
“Ashley.” Danny’s eyes were raw and red, but his face was calm. Mostly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He eyed the scars. “I heard it got—bad.”
“I’m fine. I’m…sorry,” she added. She sounded pathetic.
I’m sorry about letting your girlfriend get snatched.
“It’s not your fault,” Tyler said sharply, surprising them. “It’s their fault. They took her. You went after her. Tried to stop them.”
“I didn’t,” Ashley said.
“You still tried. A lot, from what we hear.” He nodded at her. “Thanks.”
“Brody wanted us to tell you to stop by the house. Soon,” she told Danny. “He wants to give you some tips on how to defend yourself. In case something happens.”
“What does he think is going to happen?” Tyler demanded.
“He thinks the people who took Liz, and Ian, that they might be trying to get people like Danny. And Cam.”
“Why? What do they want her for?” Tyler demanded.
The silence that crashed in was huge and aching.
“They’re not going to hurt her.” Danny looked up, his face gone grey in the baking sun. “Ashley? Tell me. They’re not going to hurt her. Are they?” he asked, his voice breaking.
“Yes,” Ashley said.
“A lot?”
Ashley stared down at her arm, at the line of scars running along her skin.
“Oh
god
.” Danny put his head in his hands, and her stomach twisted into knots. She rushed in, wanting to make it better, but awkwardly, because she didn’t know how. “They’ll try not to. They’re not after her pain; when they can help it, they will. And they can help it a lot, at first. It’s easier. You take to the drugs better.”
“And later on?” Tyler demanded.
Lie.
Lie
.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
“It will hurt a lot.”
Tyler glared at her, blinking rapidly. He hunched over, scrubbing at his eyes, muttering over and over, “Fuck fuck fuck
fuck
…” But it didn’t work. They saw the tears anyway.
“It doesn’t make
sense
,” he exploded. “If they wanted,” Tyler waved a hand at Danny, “superheroes, why grab Liz? She’s nobody.”
Danny gaped at Tyler.
“You know what I meant,” Tyler said, his voice raw. “She not a superhero. She’s just Liz.”
“‘Just?’” Danny choked.
“You know what I
meant
.”
Ashley shrugged. “We’ll ask Proom. When he gets here. He’s coming to check on me,” she said at Danny and Tyler’s startled glances.
Tyler smiled. “Good.”
“We don’t know he took her,” Danny said. “Not for certain.”
Tyler threw up his hands. “Oh come the fuck on, Daniel.”
“We don’t have any proof.”
“Brody can get you proof. Give him ten minutes in a room with that asshole.”
“It won’t stand up in court,” Cam said.
“It’ll make me feel better,” Tyler said.
“Brody will handle him,” Ashley said. “Just pass the word. And stop by soon, okay? Tomorrow. Tell the others, too. Brody wants to see everyone he can.”
They walked back to Brody’s across the sand.
“You look tired.”
Cam didn’t answer for a long moment. So long she thought he wasn’t going to. “I’ve been trying to see more. Farther. I don’t get everything,” he explained. “I don’t think I even get most of it. I don’t know if my brain can’t process it or what. The further out I try to go, the more that could happen, and it gets…blurry.” He shook his head. “I’ve been trying to exercise. I thought, like a muscle, maybe—” He tugged a hand through his hair. His face was very pale.
“When I was a kid, I didn’t know what this was at first. I thought…” He shook his head. “When I did, I had to practice. To even get this far. I just need to practice more.”
“You need a break,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “Eat. Sleep.”
He smiled. “Can’t. People missing.” He squeezed his eyes shut, but didn’t let go of her hand.
“Cam—” Ashley began, but she caught herself before she was a complete idiot and blurted out everything she was thinking. How he was a good person, the best person she’d ever met—good and kind and wanting to help people, really wanting to help them, and doing it. How it made her feel ashamed because there was so much she could do and she hadn’t been doing any of it. She’d just been moping, and afraid, and done nothing. She could do anything, and she’d done nothing. How she would never, ever be as good as him. But he made her want to try.
She was very glad she didn’t say any of that.
Instead, she said. “I know—I know what Brody said, but I think it would be better if you stayed away. From me. For me.”
“Why?” Cam asked.
“Because of Danny. And Liz. I’ve been thinking,” she told him. “If something happened to you. I know we—we’re not like that, but if anything happened to you—I would do anything,” Ashley said simply. “I would hate it, but if it kept you safe, I would do
anything
he asked. And that frightens me.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Because it’d be wrong. You know it would be. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me,” he said.
Ashley shook her head, wishing she had some defense against this. Wishing it was anger or humor or anything else. She wasn’t sure she could deal with faith. She wanted to say,
I do
or
That’s not true
, but the words caught in her throat, and she was glad. She didn’t want them to be true. Cam believed in her. She wanted that more.
So she said, “Brody will be waiting for us.”
Cam nodded and went with her as she headed home.
Cam met Proom the next day.
He was out for coffee with Dr. MacNamara at the time. She was still technically on sabbatical, but Cam had surprised himself by calling and asking if they could talk. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d wanted to talk to her, instead of Ashley or Meg or anyone else. But he was prepared to admit that his aunt had been right, and Dr. MacNamara did seem to know what she was doing.
They met at Doctor Brew, a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop run by a rabid Whovian, just down the street from Level Up. From their window-side table, they could see the sun glint off the taped windows, and Dr. MacNamara would glance at it from time to time.
“I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me,” Cam told her.
Dr. MacNamara smiled a little sadly. “I appreciate you calling. During our last session—I didn’t handle it as well as I would have liked. I’ve been having difficulty dealing with…” She glanced again at Level Up
.
“Things.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” The doctor picked at the sleeve around her coffee cup. “It’s still difficult, but I’d like to help, if I can. I was sorry to hear about Miss Bell.” Cam nodded. “How are you dealing with it?”
He gave her a wry smile. “It’s been difficult.”
“I understand you and Ashley attempted to intervene.”
“Yes.”
“That was admirable.”
“It didn’t work.”
“You still tried.”
“Trying doesn’t really help me sleep at night,” Cam said wryly.
Dr. MacNamara started to respond, but the door behind Cam chimed and she stiffened and went silent. Cam heard an eager voice say, “Diana! Fancy meeting you here.”
Dr. MacNamara straightened in her chair and pulled back. “Mr. Proom.”
“‘Doctor,’ please. It’s so good to see you again,” Proom continued cheerfully. “I wanted to stop by your office and say hello. I think my PA sent word I was in town for the day, but she didn’t hear back from you.”
“I haven’t been getting messages, I’ve been on sabbatical.” Her knuckles had gone white where she was clutching her coffee cup.
“So I see.” Proom held out his hand to Cam. “Camron Scott? It’s a pleasure to meet you. Dr. Zachary Proom.”
But Cam knew that already. Devil horns would’ve been more appropriate, or at least a black cape and a widow’s peak. He wasn’t entirely prepared for the fresh-faced young man with the thick black-framed glasses and the artfully faded T-shirt proclaiming
11/2/85 Never Forget
.
“Well, if you have a moment, do let me join you.” Proom appropriated a chair from another table with an apologetic, “Eminent domain,” to the girl who was sitting there and dropped his messenger bag on it, then jogged up to the counter. Dr. MacNamara let out a slow, controlled breath and then reached in her bag for her cell phone. She texted briefly. “I apologize,” she said, tucking her cell away. “I usually have a rule against using cell phones during sessions—”
“It’s fine,” Cam said.
“You should go,” she said.
Cam glanced at where Proom was locked in friendly debate with the barista. “Would it help?”
Dr. MacNamara didn’t say anything.
Proom returned, bearing three steaming cups. “I suppose this is the best we can do. The girl at the counter claims their blend is an organic fair trade, but she didn’t seem to be able to answer
any
of my questions about how the plantation is run or if it was a heritage bean or anything. Still, we get what we get…” He smiled at Cam as he settled in his chair and then handed a fresh cup to Dr. MacNamara. “Skinny Chai latte, isn’t it, Diana?” She made no move to take it. “I passed by your brother’s store on the way here. It’s remarkable. I had heard from Brody that there had been some damage sustained when your brother went missing, but I can hardly see it.”
Dr. MacNamara still didn’t say anything. Cam did. “Several of us lent a hand after the police cleared it. It was mostly a lot of mess. Some minor repairs.”
“That was very considerate of you.”
“It was the least we could do. We didn’t want Ian to come back to a lot of broken glass.”
Proom shook his head sympathetically and said to Dr. MacNamara, “I am so glad that we ran into each other, Doctor. I did want to extend, in person, my sympathies on the loss of your brother.”
Cam sensed more than saw the tremor that rocked through her. He put a hand on the doctor’s arm. “I wasn’t aware he was dead,” Dr. MacNamara said.
“Oh, no. No.” Proom waved that off. “I meant ‘disappearance,’ of course. Still, on behalf of the organization, I wanted to let you know that we appreciate your loss. We sent the hat ‘round for a basket when we heard. Did you get it?”
“I did,” Dr. MacNamara said. “I can’t tell you what it meant to me.”
“Well, I’m sure you could if you put your mind to it. It would only be polite.”
“That was very kind of you,” Cam cut in smoothly. “And the coffee. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do for you, after all you’ve done for us,” Proom assured him, “assisting with One-Eleven the way you have.”
Cam looked at the cup of coffee in his hand. It was very hot, and he wondered, if he threw it in Proom’s face, if it was hot enough to leave some nice burns or if it would just make a mess all over his clever little T-shirt. “You mean Ashley.”
Proom took a sip of his coffee, and let out an impressed
mmm…
“We find it a little clearer to refer to subjects by their assigned numbers. Inter-departmental communication, you know. The reports on One-Eleven have been really rather promising recently,” he told Cam, lifting his mug to Dr. MacNamara in a small salute. “We’ve found them very encouraging. You know, we never looked into that—personal attachment as a means of promoting individual emotional stability. As a matter of fact, we initially recommended against it. The transition proved to be more volatile for…oh, a number of the subjects, so we thought it best to avoid strong emotions. I will thank you, Cam,” Proom added, setting his coffee cup back on the saucer with a click, “for keeping her in line.”
“Ashley keeps herself in line,” Cam said.
“Does she? How remarkable,” Proom said, with a smile to Dr. MacNamara. “She must be doing better than I thought. And you. How are you doing, Mr. Scott?”
“Well, thank you,” Cam said.
“And how are you finding Sugar Beach? Bit of a change from Savannah, I should think.”
“Yes,” Cam said.
“Your family is doing well,” Proom continued, and it wasn’t a question. “Your parents have decided to send Naomi to Silverleaf, in New York, for the rest of the summer. Girl has quite a good seat, I understand. Though she needs to work on her dressage.”
This time, Dr. MacNamara put a hand on his arm. Hot coffee spilled over the rim of his mug and stung his fingers. “Yes,” Cam said.
“It must have been very difficult for you, dealing with people like that. I’ve met a fair share myself, actually,” Proom confided. “Honestly, it’s disgusting the extent to which people will go to find excuses for their behavior. The thing to understand is that the problem is not with you—there is nothing wrong with you. The problem is that people like your parents really, truly don’t understand that what you can do is…a miracle. Of the brain. Of evolution. People like that hide behind what they know because they’re afraid of what they don’t.”
Cam saw his arm, with the cup of coffee still clutched in his hand, pull from of the doctor’s hold, move up. Towards Proom. But then Brody was there, between the two of them. Cam’s fingers closed around empty air, and he realized the cup was in Brody’s hand, not his. Cam hadn’t even heard the door.
“Zach,” Brody said. “We weren’t expecting you so early.”
“My schedule cleared up,” Proom replied easily. “I decided to pop in here and had the good fortune to run into Mr. Scott and our dear Dr. Mac. We thought we’d seize the opportunity to get to know each other at little better.”
“I’m sure you know everyone well enough,” Brody said, snagging a chair from another table and wedging it between Cam and Proom. “I don’t suppose this means you’ll be heading out of here earlier.”
“So kind of you to ask. I had hoped to stay the night, but I must admit to having some trouble finding a place to stay. It seems there are no vacancies in the entirety of Sugar Beach.” Proom looked around. “One-Eleven?”
“Ash’s busy.”
“Quelle surprise. The medical report I received said that she’s healing nicely. Of course, that’s only to be expected.”
“Our compliments to your chef,” Brody deadpanned and Proom smiled.
“Do you know, for the longest time, I thought it was just that simple. I took pride in it. Now, I won’t deny, we did contribute a great deal to her current state, but it seems my fellow chefs and I cannot take all the credit.” Brody’s eyes flicked to Cam and the taped storefront of Level Up, but he didn’t say anything. Proom nodded. “Since One-Eleven left us, things have been…a little quieter, shall we say. I’ve had the time and ability to pursue one or two things that interested me. One of which is the question of that subject’s continued good health.
“Consider the rest of our…well, let’s call them our Beta Group. Aside from the emotional equilibrium issue, there was the continual problem of the body simply rejecting the changes. Their bodies couldn’t handle the demands we were asking of it. But One-Eleven never had that problem. According to the report from that subject’s most recent stay in hospital, it is still not an issue. Our star pupil is as fit as the proverbial fiddle. I must admit, I found the question as to
why
this was…fascinating. Why has she continued to thrive, when all of the other subjects did not?
“It wasn’t until our girl moved here and we had to run checks on this town and the people she associated with—standard procedure, you know how it is—that we discovered, or even considered, that there are some of us who are, shall we say, differently-abled. And I began to develop a theory. Would you like to hear it?”
“No,” Brody said.
Proom waved it away. “It seems there are those among us who are born with certain advantages. Like healing. Or…” He smiled at Cam. “We’re not entirely sure why. From what we’ve found, however, these people are typically healthier. Stronger. More resilient. Perhaps it has something to do with their being more advanced. But in One-Eleven’s case, it seems to be something truly special. It seems we have that ability to thank for One-Eleven’s success in the program. I am so pleased to hear our last Beta is doing so well. Which reminds me—no chance I can beg loan of your couch for the night?” Proom asked Brody. “I’d hate to rush home again before seeing for myself how well One-Eleven is doing.” Brody said nothing, and Proom passed it off with a shrug. “This is a remarkable town. You know, I couldn’t find a single room to rent or house to buy?”
“Tourist season,” Cam said.
“If that’s the case, there should be no problem. I’m sure I can find someone willing to postpone their vacation a few days. I did want a chance to look around this place.”
“Maybe they don’t want to leave,” Cam said.
Proom shrugged. “That’s a very simple view to take of things. I prefer to think there is always a way for everybody to get what they want. It’s just a matter of what you want and what they want and finding out what they want more. Take your friend Danny, for instance. I’ve been trying to make a deal with him for…ever, it seems. Mortgage, USC, trust fund for the wee Whitney. Nada. How is he doing, by the by?” Proom asked. “I heard there was some kind of trouble with that wonderfully athletic Miss Bell he was dating.”
“She was kidnapped,” Cam said.
Proom shook his head. “Shame, that. It seems like quite the mess. I understand there’s suspicion that she was ‘kidnapped’ by the same people who had something to do with—Mr. Reese’s disappearance.”
“Only suspicion,” Brody said.
“Shame, that,” Proom repeated. “They are in for a quite the surprise, aren’t they? I mean, if we postulate that she was taken by the same people as our dear Dr. MacNamara’s brother, then it must follow that they took her for the same reason. Stands to reason they thought she was like Mr. Reese. She’s not, though, is she? And amazing in a way, isn’t it? How long must she have practiced, how much time and effort and determination she must have committed for those people—whoever they may be—to have mistaken skill and talent for a very different kind of ability. What with the R&D resources that they must undoubtedly have. They must be very disappointed.” He tsked. “How long has your Danny been seeing her? Four years—five? I know what they say about first love and childhood sweethearts and all that, but those kids”—Proom winked—“I think they might have something.”
Brody grabbed Cam as he jolted out of his chair, then yanked him back down and shut him up with a look.
Proom snagged his iPad from his bag and started tapping in a note. “That reminds me—I’d appreciate the chance to speak to you, my dear doctor, about the temper issue. It seems it’s not just One-Eleven, and we won’t be able to move into further testing if subjects are going to snap at the drop of a hat. We lose more good subjects that way than because of rejection—ah, well… Toodles.” Proom stood to go and then paused. “If you see Danny later, do tell him I said hello. And to let me know if he ever changes his mind.”