No Chains Shall Bind Me (The Good Doctor's Tales Folio Seven) Page 4

  The nurse, an older woman with a permanent frown, glared at her. Gail wondered for a moment if she did it doggy style too, or if that was just the witch Grimm. A small smile slipped out at the thought.

  “You’re not allowed in there!” the nurse said, in the sharp tones of someone with assumed authority. Gail leaned up against the office doorway and sneered back at the nurse. She didn’t actually think anyone used this office, the one next to Dr. Mendell’s, because she found nothing inside at all personal. Just pens and paper and a few books. Gail couldn’t think of any reason she shouldn’t be allowed in the empty office, except that the nurse had some authoritarian affection for senseless rules.

  The nurse sniffed. “There’s someone coming to visit you. I suggest you try being a little more polite with her. Focus Adkins is the most senior Focus in the entire state.”

  Another Focus? Now? At 7 a.m.? What was any visitor doing here at this hour, much less a Focus? What did this older Focus want of her?

  What kind of secrets did she know?

  Gail found the possibility of secrets enticing. Where there was one, such as the infertility of women Transforms, there had to be many. How many of these Transform Sickness mysteries did this Focus know? An ember of excitement burned as she thought about the size of the unexplored territory she had found.

  Gail still couldn’t get used to this Focus thing. Upstairs, she still sensed Sylvie, Melanie, and the bitch, sleeping in their rooms. The glow was clearer now than last night, and she could tell they were slowly starting to build up juice. The juice built up around their bare core structure, like sweat, seeping out from the body. The change was small, but she could sense it. Her attendants had transformed with a high juice count, and high meant she needed to take the juice from them and put it in her juice buffer. She didn’t understand how to do such a thing. With her Transform telepathy, Gail could almost see the juice buffer she created, from her own juice, an amorphous amoeba following her around like a pet.

  Gail wondered about something else. She had expected a lecture from the nurse when she snapped at her. Instead, the nurse let the issue drop. She had also expected trouble last night over Van. She wasn’t married. Of course they wouldn’t approve, and they didn’t. However, the nurse and Dr. Mendell did let him come in and spend the night, and never said a word.

  They treated her with china doll care. Why? Because she was a Focus? How quaint, Gail thought. I’m no princess, even if they act like I am one.

  Nurse Sourpuss led Gail down the hall to a conference room, a small rectangular room with a round table and four chairs in the center. Gail noted that it would have been an excellent place for the meeting with Dr. Mendell and her parents. She wondered if Dr. Mendell hadn’t thought of it, or if he had some deep need to be sitting behind his big long mahogany status symbol. Oh, well, there was nothing to do about it now.

  The nurse left her in the room. Alone.

  Gail explored the room until she got bored, took a moment to dust the table with a paper napkin and arrange the coffee straws and napkins. The minutes dripped by as slowly the hospital woke up.

  She grimaced and tapped her fingers against her leg impatiently. She fought the temptation to leave the room and go exploring some more, but she decided she had probably yanked Sourpuss’s chain enough for one morning. Besides, she was curious about the other Focus.

  What would another Focus be like? She had read dozens of articles about Transform Sickness, but those articles talked about biology and medicine. Scary stuff. They didn’t talk much about the people, though. What was it like to be the Focus of an entire household of people, supporting men and women who depended on her for their survival?

  What did this older Focus want of her? Would she be helpful? Or would she be disapproving, thinking of Gail as a kid, one who shouldn’t be let near the responsibility of a Focus? Were there rules she would try to make Gail follow?

  She had spent the last three years majoring in Journalism, focusing on politics, and the doings of important people. The decisions they made affected people’s lives. Her curiosity, the desire to know the secrets of what went on in the world, was what had enticed her into Journalism. What kept her engaged were the people, especially the ones who abused their power, and the victims of those who abused their power.

  Transform Sickness was something recent, something growing, something becoming more important every year, already affecting thousands of people’s lives. Here she was, landing right in the middle of the story. Her curiosity was piqued, and this filled her with excitement. Maybe this Focus business wouldn’t be so bad if she had stories to chase.

  If only she could get rid of her damned headache. She also wanted more juice. Not wanted – needed. She couldn’t think like this. The lack was miserable and distracting. She felt terrible, stuck in a room waiting for some Focus to show up. Long minutes passed, and still no Focus showed. Gail sat in a chair. Got up. Paced. Looked out the window. Failed to come up with some reason why the Focus would be showing up today, on a Sunday.

  Without any warning, Gail sensed a new glow with her Transform telepathy, coming in toward the clinic in a car. Gail spotted it about a hundred yards away. This glow was noticeably different from Melanie, Sylvie and the bitch. She didn’t even have words to describe the difference. This glow was no more than a blur. She sensed no details at all, except for some fundamental difference in the glow, in kind, or type, or something.

  Curious, she reached out toward the blur and touched the glow with this extra part of her mind. She twisted with her new sense, so she could better see, a difficult thing to do at fifty yards away, as if someone or something resisted. Her twisting worked, though; the glow slowly became clearer, a picture coming into focus. The glow was a person! A man, of all things. Just as she brought him into focus, he fell to his knees, clutching himself as if in pain.

  Gail pulled back in shock when she realized she had just hurt someone. Oh, hell! She hadn’t meant to hurt the man. She sat down in one of the chairs with a sick feeling in her stomach. She hoped she hadn’t caused him some kind of permanent damage. She had acted without thinking, a natural response of her curiosity, and now the man lay on the ground in pain. She just wanted to see this new thing.

  Gail closed her eyes. Her Transform telepathy still sensed the man she hurt, as clear as she sensed Melanie or Sylvie. Without warning, he blurred again, returning to his former indistinct form. Now, she sensed someone else with him, a diffuse and much more complex glow, much harder to see than the man’s glow.

  Oh, crap! She had just hurt a male Transform escort of the Focus coming to visit her. This important Focus would be rightfully pissed!

  She continued to watch. After several long moments, the person on the ground stood up again. Gail breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t permanently injured the Transform.

  She had screwed up mightily. She shouldn’t ever have touched a Transform who already had a Focus. Probably a killer faux pas. The Focus and her entourage were going to be pissed as hell at her for this breach of propriety.

  Gail held her head in her hands, not sure what to do. A part of her wanted her to run away and hide. Far far away. Instinctive fear. Gail dismissed the fear as silly. What she needed to do was meet the Focus involved and apologize.

  (6)

  Five minutes or so later, the door to the conference room opened, and a man in a cheap suit came in, the Transform she had messed up by accident. He was in his mid-thirties, with bulky muscles and hard eyes. He scanned the room as if he expected an axe murderer to jump out at him from the corners. His eyes scanned over Gail and dismissed her, with an impersonal coldness, as if he didn’t know she was the one who hurt him.

  Gail’s empathy for the hurt she caused vanished in an instant. This was a rundown Transform Clinic in the middle of Detroit, not some gangster den or South Vietnam battle zone. What did he expect? Assassins, ready to shoot everyone?

  With a minor flourish that increased Gail’s wince, he opened the door
the rest of the way. A prim young woman walked into the room, escorted by another man much like the first, except that he didn’t have the glow. This haughty young queen had to be Focus Adkins.

  Focus Adkins possessed the stunningly beautiful looks of a movie star, incongruous in the dingy ordinariness of the conference room. The youthful Focus’s skin had a creamy smoothness like milk and she wore her rich chestnut brown hair pinned elegantly back. She was trim, with curves in all the right places, and she glowed with health and vitality. She was impeccably dressed in an expensive cream-colored suit far too mature for her. Without the telltale glow, Gail would have guessed her to be one of those sorority sisters Gail had avoided, except this woman achieved what those social-climbing money-hungry girls only pretended. There was something unreal about being so close to someone so perfect, as if an angel had decided to touch down on earth. Gail was acutely aware of her still-damp hair and ripped blue jeans. The doctor might have called her a Focus, but she was nothing at all like this fabulous creature. She was a dirt-poor child in the face of moneyed perfection, awkward and ugly.

  A child. A fool besides, for what she had done to the other Focus’s Transform. Gail’s headache pounded harder. Gail started to rise, long-unused courtesies triggered by an instinctive deference to the Focus. Some rebellious impulse made her quash her politeness. Gail settled back in her chair, bare knee poking defiantly through the hole in her jeans.

  As Gail sat, and the Focus stood and looked disapprovingly around the conference room, the woman’s diffuse blurry glow resolved itself into a veritable sun, almost blinding Gail’s screwy Transform telepathy. Her headache pain spiked momentarily, leaving Gail shaky and nauseous.

  The Focus didn’t seem to notice any of this. She nodded, with a queenly reserve, at the two men who accompanied her. The nurse had said Focus Adkins was the most senior in the state. She might look Gail’s age, but she was almost certainly years older.

  The men nodded back to their Focus, each saying “ma’am,” and took up positions on either side of the door. Guards. Her royal highness Focus Adkins had honest to goodness bodyguards. Who did they protect her from? They certainly didn’t consider Gail to be any threat.

  Focus Adkins settled her elegant self into the chair opposite, ankles crossed, suit pressed and trim, and not a hair out of place. “You may be brand new, but you need to learn a few basic courtesies,” Focus Adkins said, calm and guarded. Gail turned red with shame. “You don’t ever, ever retag a Transform who belongs to another Focus. That’s the height of rudeness. You leave other Focuses’ households alone and they won’t interfere with yours. You need to master your metasense so you can tell the difference between a tagged Transform and an untagged Transform.”

  Gail knew she deserved chewing out, but it sure as hell seemed like the other Focus could be a little bit nicer about this. Ice cubes had more empathy than this woman.

  “I’m sorry, very sorry, Focus Adkins,” Gail said, as if she was a child caught stealing candy. “I didn’t realize what I was doing and I certainly won’t do it again.” Gail couldn’t believe she had made some other Focus’s Transform into one of her own. According to the pamphlets, new Focuses needed to touch a Transform to bring him into their household. Metasense, though. Now that was a cool word, Gail thought. So was ‘tagging’, ‘retag’, ‘tagged Transform’ and ‘untagged Transform’. She couldn’t wait to use any of these new words around Van…

  Focus Adkins stared at Gail, a perfect goddess observing the flawed mortals below. Gail found herself slouching in the chair, sloppier by the minute. Yes, she thought, this is indeed a Focus. She had a sudden moment of fear that something had gone wrong with her transformation, keeping her from ever becoming such a wondrous and terrifying creature.

  “Accepted,” Adkins said, disapproving. “We won’t say any more about your unfortunate mistake. I’m sure you’ve learned better.”

  Gail bit her tongue and avoided saying anything in response. She concentrated on looking abashed, as if the Focus was her father.

  “Pay attention,” Focus Adkins said. She radiated disdain at Gail’s crossed arms over her sunken chest. “The Focus transformation is difficult and you’re going to need to learn quite a lot in a very short amount of time. I’m going to cover it quickly. This place has gone bad and I don’t plan on staying here any longer than I have to. Neither should you.”

  Gail sat up straight again, straightening out her clothes as well. Information!

  “Gone bad? What do you mean, gone bad?”

  “It happens,” the Focus said, exasperated. “Places where Transforms live for too long go bad. The juice stops flowing well, the place itself becomes uncomfortable, and becomes no place to maintain a household. You’re going to want to move your household out of here as soon as you can.”

  “But why? What causes this?” Gail leaned forward, elbows on the tiny table, intensely interested. This wasn’t in the brochures or in the background information Van had dug up so far. She had to know.

  “No one knows,” Adkins said, now irritated. “Now, why don’t you wait with your questions and let me finish.”

  Gail wanted to grind her teeth at Focus Adkins’ snippiness. A thousand questions sat on the tip of her tongue, and patience had never been her long suit. It took work to sit back in her chair and wait for Adkins to dribble her driblets.

  Adkins watched her for a moment, concentrating on something. “Have the doctors here already given you their spiel about Transform Sickness?” she said. Her voice was a rich and melodious alto.

  Gail nodded. There was definitely something odd about this woman, something irritating. The perfection. The attitude of royal superiority. A distillation of the worst attitudes of her parents’ generation, raised to the Nth power, and poured back into a single individual who appeared to be Gail’s age.

  Focused into a single individual, one might say.

  “Good,” Adkins said. “Then I won’t repeat what you already know. So listen up. You have acquired a large and dangerous job, and you’ll need to learn quickly.”

  Gail’s stomach churned, the same acid upset she got every time she got into a confrontation with anyone who dared talk down to her. Her continuous grinding headache pounded hard, now, worse ever since Adkins entered the room.

  She willed herself to ignore the pain. However obnoxious the Focus was, she needed Focus Adkins’ help. She needed her knowledge and secrets. Gail controlled her temper, tried to smile, and did her best to look attentive.

  “First,” Adkins said, continuing to radiate superiority, “you need to take control of your household immediately. The people in your household are going to have all sorts of delusions about their own importance, left over from when they were normals. Get rid of their delusions quickly or they’ll cause all sorts of problems.”

  Gail blinked in surprise. She must have misunderstood what Focus Adkins said.

  “Use your control over their juice,” Adkins said, barreling on. “Their lives are in your hands. You’ve gotten power over your household for a reason, and you need to make extensive use of your power. Or you’ll get locked into a closet and enslaved.” She paused and looked closely at Gail, almost as if she read Gail’s mind. “I’m not kidding! It happens to Focuses. Strip any Transform all the way down at the least sign of disobedience. Do this first thing after you tag them, so they understand your power immediately. Be firm. Before too long, every Transform in your household will be jumping out of their shoes to make you happy.”

  Gail’s eyes went wide. Adkins really did mean this nonsense!

  “I don’t… What? Me?”

  Adkins’ irritation grew. She leaned forward and tapped a long, elegant finger on the table. “Control. Being a Focus is all about control. This is the most important lesson a Focus can possibly learn. You can have as much control over your people as you reach out and take. Their only defense against this is your own weakness. Punish any behavior you don’t like and reward any behavior you do. Be liberal w
ith the punishments and stingy with the rewards. This is good for your Transforms and will make them disciplined. Once they fear you, they’ll do anything to make you happy. Anything. Use the power your transformation has given you and you can maintain a well-ordered house.

  “In a few months, once your people are broken in, back off the punishments and guide them mostly with juice rewards. But only after they’re broken in, or you’ll have hell to pay, and you’ll end up being the one paying it.”

  Gail shook her head. Focus Adkins acted as if she was trying to control Gail and give her orders. Well, whatever the other Focus was trying wasn’t working. “No way, Focus Adkins,” Gail said, leaning forward, hot anger warming her face. “I’m not going to enslave my people. That would be morally wrong. You never do things just because you can.” This was the very definition of morality.

  “You must,” Focus Adkins said, concentrating intently on Gail, almost as if she willed Gail’s mind to change.

  Gail pulled back, away from the table, and looked at the too perfect Focus as if she had turned into a poisonous snake.

  “What you’re suggesting is no better than slavery,” Gail said. “Worse, even.”

  Adkins leaned back and shook her head. “You’re being soft-headed, still thinking like a normal. You’re a Focus now, and you’ll need to act like one.”