Hearts United (
Table of Contents )
part 8
by Pam Jernigan
Lois turned a corner into around into a back alley, immediately finding what she sought. It was difficult to miss the gaping hole in the ground.
Brenda followed, glancing back the way they'd come. "Hope Francine has fun just sitting in the car."
Lois shrugged. "Can you blame her? I wouldn't want to leave my car just sitting around this neighborhood, either."
Brenda moved to stand beside Lois. "Wow, that's one big pothole."
"No kidding." She moved closer, scanning the ground around the crater for any clues. "I don't see anything useful, do you?"
"Nah, it's all just normal alley trash," Brenda confirmed. "Maybe I should stayed with Francine." She walked to the other side of the crater.
"The crater's pretty clean." Lois looked up toward the nearby billboard sporting a hole with burnt edges.
"Shouldn't there be, like, a rock in it or something?"
Lois tried to remember what she'd learned about astronomy and asteroids. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"
"Maybe... it was destroyed when it hit?"
Lois shook her head. "I don't think so. Whatever did this was big enough that if it vaporized, it would have made a much bigger explosion." She glanced around the alley; the damage was very localized.
Brenda met her eyes from across the alley. "Interesting size, this hole."
Lois nodded, throttling down hope. "Isn't it, though. Just about the size of a person..."
"He's invulnerable, right?"
Lois swallowed. "I think so. We haven't really tested everything."
"Well, there aren't any body parts lying around or anything, so that's good, right?"
"But if he's not here, where is he?" She looked around, hoping for an eye witness to pop out of the shadows.
"Well, with anybody else, I'd say he can't have gotten far, but..."
Lois grimaced agreement. "Think we should check hospitals? I just can't figure out why he hasn't come home, or called me."
Brenda glanced upwards, through the hole in the billboard. "Well, that was a pretty major impact, right? On TV that'd be enough to give a person amnesia."
"Try to stay with the real world, here, Brenda."
Brenda shrugged. "Hey, I'm not the one dating a flying alien."
Lois paused. "Yeah, but still..." A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she moved towards an intersection with an even smaller alley. "Hello?"
It was an older man, obviously homeless. He seemed to have built a temporary shelter, so... "Sir... can I ask you a few questions?"
He scowled at her. "I ain't answering no survey."
"No, that's not it, it's about... well," she gestured, "that hole out there. What do you know about it?"
"Well, I dunno -- it weren't there last night, then this morning it was. Darndest ruckus, too."
Lois hesitated, unsure how to phrase her real question. And was he hinting for a bribe?
Brenda stepped up beside her. "Have you seen anyone hanging out around here this morning? He might have been confused. Lola here had a big fight with him, so he ran off, and he'd been drinking, so now we're a little bit worried."
The man nodded knowingly. "That'd explain it."
Lois took a deep breath and smiled through clenched teeth. "Explain what?"
"How he come to fall into that hole, o' course. S'why I don't drink." His gaze flickered uneasily around the end of the alley, which featured a number of empty bottles. "Much."
Lois fixed her eyes on his face, holding her breath. "Was he okay?"
"Oh, sure. Nothing was bleeding, anyways."
Lois closed her eyes and felt herself begin to sway. Brenda grabbed her arm to steady her.
"I'd'a seen it, if he was," the man continued, cackling a bit. "He'd taken all his clothes off. Couldn't seem to remember much, neither. Must'a been some party."
Brenda laughed -- faking it, Lois hoped. "Yeah, that'd be him. So where did he go?"
"I gave him some duds and took him to the shelter for breakfast. He was talking with some woman when I left. And he ain't give me my clothes back yet."
"I promise, you'll get them back," Lois said. "Actually, never mind that..." She dug into her pocketbook. "Here, take this. That ought to cover it."
The man peered at her offering and then snatched the twenty from her hand. "Thank'ee"
"So which shelter?" Brenda asked. "And where is it?"
"Riverside," the man said, examining his new money before carefully tucking it under several layers of rags. Lois vaguely hoped the money didn't get spent on drugs or drink, but it was the least of her worries.
"I know it," Brenda replied. "Come on, Lola, honey. Let's go get him back."
***
Gwen was on her way out the door when the phone rang. She hesitated, then reluctantly turned back towards her desk. She leaned across the clutter-free surface to grab the receiver. "Dr. Porter's office."
"Dr. Porter, is that you?" The voice sounded familiar but she couldn't place it. "It's me -- Kari Shankenberg."
"Yes?" Even with the name it took a moment to remember who Kari was. Fake abductee, lots of money. Gwen's voice warmed slightly. "What can I do for you, Kari?"
"Well, it's not me, it's... this guy I know."
Gwen noted the slight pause. Kari's boyfriend? Not that she remembered Kari as having any boyfriends to speak of. "What can I do for him, then?"
"He's lost his memory, I think. I mean, I don't know him very well, but I think right now I know more about him than he does. So I figured you could, you know, hypnotize him and help him remember."
Gwen gently massaged her forehead. "I daresay I could, Kari, but I'm afraid I can't do so today."
"But..." Kari's voice trailed off and Gwen could picture the girl's bewildered expression.
"There's been something of a crisis, you see," she explained. There was no point in antagonizing a client, after all. "I haven't any time for new patients."
"Oh. More UFO stuff, I guess..."
"Something like that, yes." Gwen glanced at her watch. "And I've really got to be going--"
"Wait!" Kari's voice sounded triumphant. "Now I remember where I saw him. You know I told you about that car accident the other day?"
Gwen stiffened. "Yes, I remember."
"Well, I think he's the guy I saw in the alley."
Gwen dropped her handbag to the carpet and leaned across her desk, scrabbling for pen and paper. "Where are you?"
"Riverside shelter, it's on --"
"I know it." She dropped the pen and grabbed for her handbag. "I'll be right there."
***
It took only a few agonizingly long minutes before Francine reached the shelter. It felt strange for Lois to be riding in the passenger seat, but the older woman had pointed out her shaking hands and distracted mental state, and taken over.
"There's nowhere to park," Brenda observed. "Francine, just slow down. Lois, you go on in -- we'll find a place for the car." Lois had the passenger door open almost before the vehicle had stopped, and dashed in the shelter's front door without a backwards glance. Once inside, she had to pause to look around, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
There was a man sitting at a desk to the left, and on the right were a set of swinging doors, one of them propped open. Lois rushed to the doorway and scanned the room. There was a counter along one edge of the room, obviously a cafeteria-style arrangement, while the bulk of the room was taken up with tables and folding chairs. The place was nearly deserted, and Lois felt her stomach sink to her shoes. She'd been so sure...
She spotted motion behind the counter and walked over to see a short man mopping the floor. "Excuse me... I'm looking for someone who I think was in here this morning..."
The man turned around, and replied in a mix of Spanish and heavily-accented English.
"I'm sorry, um..." She tried to remember the phrases she'd been taught. "No hablo Espanol."
The man shrugged, pointed back toward the swinging doors, and went back to mopping the floor.
Lois stepped back, at a standstill.
From behind her a voice called, "May I help you, miss?"
She turned gratefully to see the man from the desk approaching her. "Yes, I'm looking for someone... I believe he was here this morning."
"Hi, I'm Gary Meeks, the director here." He looked wary. "Why do you want to know?"
"I'm a private investigator," she replied, pulling out her wallet to give him a card. She took a deep breath and tried to sound professional. "He's approximately six feet tall, Caucasian, dark hair, approximately mid-twenties. He's been missing since last night, and I have reason to believe he may have lost some or all of his memory."
Mr. Meeks narrowed his eyes, glancing at her card before staring off into the distance. "I think I might know who you mean, but he's not here."
Lois tried to breathe her way through a mix of wild hope and sick apprehension. "Where did he go, then?"
"Well, I wasn't really paying attention, but I did notice him -- he was dressed poorly, but was, well, unusually clean."
Lois blinked at that.
Mr. Meeks smiled wryly. "I've been helping the homeless and desperate for over a decade. With that much experience, I know what to expect, and this guy didn't fit the profile. Usually when people come in off the street they're in pretty poor shape. They've either not had the opportunity or the inclination to keep themselves clean. There's usually dirt under fingernails, beard stubble, body odor, that sort of thing. We help them clean up, of course, but... well, I noticed him."
"What was he doing?"
"I'm not sure, but this woman came in looking for him -- she was professionally dressed, like you, but about ten years older, I'd say. She took him off with her."
Lois forced a smile. "Thank you." Screaming would not be helpful here. "Do you know where they went?"
He shrugged. "Haven't a clue. Unless someone wants to stay here, I don't ask questions. I was just glad he'd found someone to help him."
****
"Ah, here we are." Dr. Porter announced. Kal decided that her store-front wasn't that different from the rest of the small shops along the block -- except of course, this one had a sign advertising hypno- and psycho-therapy.
He followed her inside, trying to ignore the uneasiness that possessed him. Of course he was uneasy; he couldn't remember who he was. That was why he was here, so that the doctor could *help* him. Why did that seem like such a foreign concept?
The interior wasn't very large, featuring a desk on one side of the room, and two chairs on the other, with a small end table between them. The carpet and upholstery were looking worn, but there were several healthy-looking plants -- one on the end table, one on the desk, and a ficus standing in the corner.
"This is my reception room," Dr. Porter explained, hanging up her coat. She surveyed him with a faint sniff, making him very conscious of the ragged clothing he was wearing. "My real office is upstairs." She led him to the door behind the desk and unlocked it, revealing a narrow set of stairs.
Kal hesitated, then headed up the stairs. A feeling of urgency was growing from nowhere, bringing with it a strong urge to go somewhere -- if only he knew where. He was tempted to run back outside and just walk around until he discovered... whatever, but he knew that was foolish.
The door at the top of the stairs wasn't locked, so he walked through it. This office was somehow classier than the one downstairs. There was plush carpet and a leather-covered reclining sofa, framed by more plants, and a heavy wooden desk under the front window, facing the couch. Four filing cabinets lined up neatly on one wall, while the other side of the room had two closed doors. There were a few plants and a telephone, but all the flat surfaces in the room were innocent of clutter.
He stood in the middle of the room, awaiting direction. Dr. Porter emerged from the staircase and closed the door behind her, doing something with the locks.
"Why don't you sit down on the couch?" she suggested civilly. "So, what do you know about hypno-therapy?"
He spread his hands, palms upward. "Not much."
She smiled at him. "Don't worry. Among other things, it's a way of getting at knowledge that you have but that your conscious mind doesn't want to recall."
"Do you think that's what's going on with me?"
"That would be my first guess," she replied. She looked at the couch, then at her desk chair, stationed behind her desk, under a small high window. "I'll move this chair over so I can sit with you." Suiting action to words, she moved behind the desk and began pulling at her chair.
She appeared to be having a little trouble with it. He guessed she normally preferred to keep the desk between her and her patients. "Stand back," he directed, going to the nearest corner of her desk.
The desk and chair were both old, he thought. Solid wood construction, leather padding on the seat. And he could see the problem; there wasn't quite enough space behind the desk to allow the chair to move easily out from behind it. Getting a good grip on the side, he lifted. He set it out a few more inches from the wall, then repeated the procedure on the other side of the desk, to make it parallel with the wall once more. Something told him that Dr. Porter would prefer everything to be straight lines and right angles.
As he turned to face the doctor, he thought he detected a hint of astonishment in her gaze, but then her features smoothed out. "Thank you, Kal. That old desk is fairly heavy, I'm afraid."
He shrugged, moving to seat himself on the couch. "It was lighter than it looks." Though he supposed it might still have been too heavy for her -- she was, after all, only a woman.
"Well, let's get back to business," she said, seating herself near the couch. "You don't appear to have any serious injuries, which tends to rule out brain damage. A less violent knock to the head, however, can prompt a memory loss -- generally centered around one or two things that the person is scared of, or disgusted at, or otherwise doesn't want to face."
He scowled at her. "Are you trying to suggest I'm scared of something?"
"Not with your conscious mind, no -- or at any rate, you wouldn't let it stop you. However, your subconscious isn't so rational, and is hiding the information from you, to stay safe."
He re-arranged his seat on the couch, inching away from her. "So how do you get around that?"
"By hypnotizing you, I can dampen out those fears, allowing you to access whatever it is you're blocking. Once that's taken care of, generally the rest of your memories return on their own."
"Generally?"
She shrugged. "Nothing is guaranteed. Often, people will first remember moments of their life that were associated with strong emotion, especially negative emotions. The hypnosis will greatly speed the process, but it's essentially unpredictable. When the negative memories come up, try to glean as much detail as you can from them. Are you ready to begin?"
She was holding up a crystal on the end of a chain, and beginning to swing it gently. He looked away for a moment, thinking. He was uncomfortable with this idea, and he was getting tired of going along with other people's plans -- he was a leader of men. Wasn't he? If he wanted to find out, he didn't seem to have other options.
"It is quite safe," she commented. "And everything you say is confidential, of course."
He sighed. "Well, let's give it a try. What do I do?"
"Just lie back," she said, in a softer voice. "Look at the crystal, and listen to my voice..."
tbc
