50: I have a what!

“Y-you’re my what?” Jack croaked.

“You heard me. I’m your girlfriend.” Jack narrowed his eyes on Juliette, searching for any sign of deceit. Her eyes were stern and her posture straight. She was being serious. Of that, Jack was certain.

So it finally happened, had it? Jack Harris, the loser, the wimp, had a girlfriend? And not just any girl, but a knockout like Juliette? Jack didn’t know whether to be grief-stricken or elated. On the one hand, his heart burned for Melissa, and he felt horrible for kissing Juliette in front of her. On the other hand, Jack had poured his soul into trying to show Melissa how he felt about her, and she’d rejected him time and time again.

Do … I have a girlfriend? Me, of all people? Is this real?

Michael beamed approval at Jack. Even with the swarm of Recon officers flooding into the restaurant, followed by both Op. and Investigative teams, he still gave Jack a thumbs up and a curt nod.

Jack was beginning to feel steadily more like a tornado. The restaurant now numbered among the rest of the places that seemed to become destroyed whenever Jack went anywhere near them. Though, much like Kazou’s apartment, this time he also had nothing to do with it. Medical personnel offered damp towels to the four of them, which they gratefully accepted, wiping their dust-covered faces.

“My mom’s not gonna show up, is she?” Jack asked. He didn’t want to go through the same humiliation as earlier.

Man, this is becoming like, a “thing”. I go somewhere, crazy Psychs show up and try to kill me, then everything gets destroyed, and then my mom shows up a few minutes later. I’m like a natural disaster.

Juliette, as if reading Jack’s mind, nudged him on the shoulder. “This happens to you a lot, Jack?”

“You’ve got no idea. Since I found out I was a Psych, this’s been a weekly and sometimes daily occurrence. I’ve missed half my favorite TV shows and my Rogue is only level twenty-four. Hey, umm, Juliette, were you serious about what you just said? I … I’m your boyfriend now?”

“You tell me. Are you?”

Jack looked at her. He peered into her majestic green eyes, and her smooth lips. He didn’t feel about her the way he did Melissa, at least not yet, but Jack knew there was something special about her. It was more than just how beautiful she was. It was the way she carried herself. Much like Melissa, she was full of confidence, yet at the same time she was caring and sweet. She always wore a smile, while Melissa usually held a frown.

But when she does smile, Jack remembered. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

Jack shook the thoughts from his head. Even if Melissa did have feelings for him, what if Juliette was right? Maybe nothing Jack ever did would be good enough for her. Why should Jack have to chase her to the ends of the earth only to be rejected again and again?

“I guess I am.”

Juliette looked over her shoulder, towards where her mother was busy dealing with the massive rush of people. Then she threw her arms around Jack. She rewarded him with a brief, teasing kiss. “I’ll see you at the camp, then.”

“Oh, about that. Wait, Juliette!” Jack tried to call after her, but she’d already rejoined her mother and Michael.

I guess it’ll be all right. I’ll keep an eye out for her.

Since this was the second time this had happened, Jack already knew the drill. By the time the forensics team had entered, he was standing with Michael and the two ladies, waiting for his turn to be checked out. The forensics team studied him for samples, and the medical personnel examined him for any signs of serious injuries or concussions.

No matter how many times it was explained to him, Jack didn’t understand why the Psychs needed to use such overwhelming manpower in every little thing that happened. All the cataloging of evidence, the D.N.A samples, the questions he was forced to answer—none of it made any sense. Worse, he’d now have to file two full reports: one for the events at Kazou’s apartment, and now another for the restaurant.

Michael explained to Jack what went into each report, and Jack shook his head at all of it. “Wait, so what’s this ‘use of force’ thing about?”

“Ya gotta explain and justify all use of Psych ability. So like, write down who it was used against, and the degree of force that you used.”

“But, Michael,” Jack moaned. “I didn’t have to do that stuff before, back when we went against that crazy Cemmera-lady.”

Michael shushed him and looked around the room, ducking his head and pulling Jack’s down along with it. “Shh, don’t mention that out loud, bud. General Moore swept that under the rug, and I reckon you don’t wanna be bringing that nightmare back up to face the light.”

“So let me get this straight,” Jack said. “I’ve gotta tell them each thing I did here?”

“Yup. You gotta explain each time you drew power and who you used it against. Using Psych abilities in any kinda hostile way is like discharging a firearm. The cops have to do the same, and we ain’t treated any differently.”

“More work,” Jack mumbled under his breath. “Do Juliette and Amanda have to do this too?”

“Yeah, we all do.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ve gotta fill out our incident report and finally attend our debriefing, where we’ll be asked questions, and we explain everything that went down.”

Jack shrugged. “I can’t wait to get this entire thing over with. Man, I can’t believe those guys came after us again.”

Michael tensed, then rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, this is getting real serious. I don’t think you realize how rare it is for Psych criminals to behave this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, having criminal Psychs attack us operatives is nothing new, but usually it’s when they feel threatened. These four aren’t like the others. I mean, think about it. Other than what we think are their first names, we don’t got a clue about who these people are, and they know we don’t. They could simply disappear if they wanted to, and they’d probably get away, too.”

Michael took a breath before continuing. “They’re willingly putting themselves in harm’s way, and they’re doing it just to get back at us for stopping them at Kazou’s place. I reckon nothing like this has ever happened before. Think about it, Jack. These people are so damned psycho they’re actually going after us, the very people whose job it is to find them and lock ‘em up in the first place. It’s like they’ve declared war against us. It just ain’t normal, bud. Criminal Psychs aren’t supposed to come after us—it’s supposed to be the other way around. Even if we ain’t anyone important, this is a huge insult to the organization, not just us. Look around you. Check out the faces on those Psychs over there.” He pointed.

Jack did as Michael asked. Looking over, he saw what Michael meant. Unlike the professional demeanor at Kazou’s apartment earlier, the Psychs this time were all wearing a dark grimace. Not just the Investigative ones, either, but also the Op. teams.

“Why do they care about us so much?” Jack asked.

“Not us,” Michael said. “They don’t give two licks about us as people. Nah, it’s the fact that four Psychs of the organization were sought after and hunted. It’s an affront to us all.”

Jack thought about it for a moment then felt the click in his brain as understanding dawned on him. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “They’re not seeing us as people. They’re thinking of us as what we represent, and they’re offended ‘cause it’s just as much an insult to them as it is to us.”

Michael ruffled Jack’s hair. “Yep, you got it now. It’s about what we represent and not who we are. Those four attacked that. They spat in the face of our organization, and now everyone’s kinda pissed off.”

Five grim-looking Psychs approached. Jack could tell by nothing more than the look of brutality in their eyes they were part of an Op. team. “What happened here?” the leader asked. He was a skinny man, tall, with dark brown hair, and a thick wavy mustache.

Amanda stepped forward to greet him. “Might as well call everyone over first,” she said. “Forgive me, umm, captain, I’m assuming?” The man nodded. “We’ve just been through it a lot, and it will be difficult for us if we have to repeat this over and over.”

The leader twirled his mustache. “All right, I’ll call the other Op. teams over here. And please, call me Captain Richards, ah”—the man looked down on a file he was carrying—“team-leader Amanda Pierce.”

“Only the Op. teams, Captain Richards?” Amanda asked.

The lower corner of Richards’ lip receded into a frown. It was slight, but it was noticeable. “There’s no use involving any more of you Carebears in this. My team and several others have already filed for kill orders. If these morons are gunning for Operative blood, they can try and get a taste of ours. Ain’t that right, boys?”

The four men in formation behind him let out a rumbling grunt. “Sir!” they shouted, saluting.

“I don’t think so,” said another man walking towards them. “My name is Captain Andre Foster, of the Investigations department.” He was a short man, black, with wiry dark hair. He held a stern, unwavering expression. “You have no information on the ‘targets,’ and we haven’t even been given an opportunity to investigate. You’re way out of line here, Richards.”

Richards turned, and growled, “Listen up, Carebear. We’re doing this to protect your sorry rump. This isn’t a typical case, and you know it. Let us do our jobs and hunt these animals down. We’ll take them out, and we’ll get it done before nightfall. Think about it for a second. These four Carebears got lucky,” he said, pointing at Jack and company. “But what’s going to happen next time? What if there are more of them? I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that they’re connected with 90-B, yeah? They’ll kill all of you.”

Jack knew the Op. team leader was taunting the other man, but the Investigative leader showed no signs of being disturbed. His expression did not waver; it remained the same stern, no-nonsense look. “Those are your opinions, and you’re entitled to them, Captain Richards. However, protocol is protocol. I ask you to rescind your kill-order request, or I’ll take it up with a Senior Commander. You’re in the wrong here.”

The one man and three women that flanked Captain Foster nodded. Jack assumed they were his team-members.

Another woman approached, this one harboring a sly grin. She punched Richards playfully on the shoulder. Jack could tell by the five people walking closely behind her, that she too was a team-leader.

“These Carebears given ya trouble, Richey?” she asked. “Sometimes I don’t think they know what’s good for them.”

“Yeah,” Richards said. “I don’t mind if they want to listen in, as long as they keep quiet.”

“Hey, we have every right to participate!” Andre shouted.

More and more Psychs entered the growing circle, adding their own voices, until two sides formed around Jack; one consisted of all Investigative Psychs, while the other filled with members of various Op. teams.

Jack was growing increasingly confused with each passing second. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Michael, does this stuff normally happen?”

“From time to time, bud. The captains are really having it out over this one, though.”

“We will NOT be disrespected,” a young woman shouted. From all appearances, she was the youngest captain present. “You Op. team animals have gone too far. The nerve, saying we should remain quiet. How about you remain quiet, and let us ask the questions. It’s our job, after all.”

“Shut your damn Carebear mouth,” another voice added. “It’s because you lot are so soft on these criminals that they feel they can get away with anything. We’ve got four dead chefs now. Good job, Carebears. Why don’t go hug and kiss them, or whatever it is you lot do, and maybe they’ll come back to life.” At this, the Op. team Psychs shook the restaurant with scornful laughter.

The voices grew louder, more and more people weighing in, until nothing discernible could be made out over the senseless back-and-forth. Over fifty Psychs on each side shouted at each other, increasingly more offensive terms being thrown around.

“This could get bad,” Michael said. His voice filled with alarm. “And I mean really, really bad.”

“You don’t think a fight could break out?” Juliette asked. “We’re all still on the same side, after all.”

Amanda grabbed her daughter and pulled her back a bit. “Anything is possible. This wouldn’t be the first time a fight has broken out between the captains.”

The non-Psych personnel around the room backed away as the voices grew louder, and the words became sharper, filling with an ever-growing menace. The forensics teams joined with the medical personnel, and together they positioned themselves behind the recon officers, who also shifted their eyes around the room and gripped their weapons tighter.

Jack couldn’t believe what he was seeing. For the first time in his life, he wondered if he was one of the smartest people in a room. Jack, Michael, Amanda, and Juliette, were all supposed to be calmly answering the Psychs’ questions, but were instead standing in the middle of them, listening to them throw insults back and forth.

How can they behave like such idiots? These are supposed to be adults. They’re supposed to protect people, and they’re fighting like little children!

Jack didn’t care if the Psychs outranked him or that he was just a kid. He sucked air into his lungs and clenched his hands, feet, and stomach. Closing his eyes, trembling with anger, he roared at them.

“SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!”

The shouting stopped in an instant. Many Psychs were still mid insult when Jack’s voice ripped them away from their screaming contest. Every last one turned to look at Jack, the boy who had the nerve to raise his voice at them. Some inclined their heads curiously, while others glared at him in outrage. All had their attention focused solely on Jack.

Michael backed away from Jack, smiling and waving his hands at the angry Psychs, as if to say, “Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.”

Jack didn’t care. He’d be more than happy to take responsibility for his actions. This wasn’t at all like the way he’d disrespected Paro. If his mom wanted to punish him for yelling at these idiots, then let her. Jack would smile and take it like a man.

“What’s wrong with you people?” Jack asked them. “How come you’re all being stupid and fighting like children? I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” They continued to glare at him, but none spoke. At the very least they were willing to listen to what he had to say.

“My day sucked today. My mom destroyed my stuff, I got beat up in school, and then weirdoes came along and ruined my date. The only good part is that I’ve finally got a girlfriend, and even that—hey, hey! Stop saying ‘aww.’ Stop it! If you guys wanna yell and scream and stuff that’s fine, but leave me out of it. I know I’m the new guy, at least to Psych-people, but even I can see how silly all of this is, and my mom would agree with me if she was here, too.”

There were whispers from around the room. “You’re General Harris’ kid, ain’t cha?” a frightened voice said.

Jack nodded at the Op. team-leader who’d said it. It gave Jack an idea. He didn’t know how things worked among Psych-operatives, but it was worth a shot. “That’s right. Alana Harris is my mom, and I wonder what she’ll think if I tell her a bunch of captains were about to start a huge fight.”

Faces reddened around Jack, worry spreading from face to face, lips trembling. “There’s no need to take it that far,” Richards said. “This is just a silly little argument among captains, isn’t that right, everyone?”

Op. team or otherwise, everyone in the room nodded, swearing up and down it was just a little spat, nothing major. Sweat trickled down the faces of several Psychs, while others shook hands and apologized. Michael tapped Jack on the shoulder, and whispered into his ear, “Good one, bud. Saying you’ll rat on ‘em, good thinking.”

Order was quickly restored, and one by one, Amanda, along with Jack, Juliette, and Michael, answered the various Psychs’ questions to the best of their knowledge. There were some Jack thought were important, like how many rogue Psychs had attacked them, what they looked like, and if they had said anything that might prove useful in the investigation.

Other questions were ridiculous. One Investigative team-leader asked Jack which of the rogue Psychs he feared most. Another asked Jack what he’d ordered to eat before they’d arrived. No matter the question, he answered them all, and by the time the last Psych walked away satisfied, the sun had fully set, casting shadows along the restaurant’s wide windows.

People departed in small groups, starting with several forensic and medical personnel, continuing with some of the Op. teams. None spoke to Jack, and when the recon officer teams took their leave he looked around for some idea of what he was supposed to be doing.

“So, umm, do we just go now?”

“I think so,” Michael said. “Amanda?”

Amanda shrugged and spread her feet apart, stretching. She yawned and straightened her dress. “I guess we can. Juliette, let’s get out of here.”

The sirens grew louder outside while the last few Psychs departed. “Hey, Michael,” Jack said. “What’s going to happen to this place now?”

“Not much. Once the last of the Psychs leave, the police will take over, then things will kinda calm down a bit.”

Jack walked with haste to the restaurant’s exit, Michael and the two girls following behind. Jack wanted to be out of the place before someone changed their mind and asked more questions. He held the door for Juliette, trying his best to act like a gentlemen. She smiled at him, and Jack’s mood brightened as he stepped out with her into the warm night.

“Can I see you before Friday?” Jack asked. He still couldn’t believe that someone as pretty as Juliette was his girlfriend. It still sounded both strange and weird to him.

“I’ll be pretty busy this week, but I’ll give you my number.”

Jack tried to keep a straight face, but inside he was howling in victory. I’m gonna get her number. Her number, her number!

Yellow tape and police vehicles surrounded the restaurant, with several officers being used simply to hold back the growing crowds. The light from the police headlights were almost blinding in the growing dark, and Jack had to squint when he looked in certain places.

“This is so weird,” Jack said. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”

“Listen, bud, we need to get moving. The last thing we want is for someone to take notice of you and start asking questions. You’re too young looking. Same for you, Juliette.”

Michael pulled on the back of Jack’s shirt, and Jack half-walked, half-dragged along with Michael. Jack moaned in protest as he was pulled away from his new girlfriend. “Don’t worry,” Michael said. “You’ll see her again soon.”

Three police officers in blue uniforms blocked their path. “Hold up,” one of them said. “Where do you two think you’re going? The parking lot here is closed off.”

Michael reached into his pocket and revealed a small metal badge, flashing it before the man’s eyes. “Ah … sorry about that, sir, I didn’t know. Is the young one with you?”

Michael nodded, and Jack watched the exchange in bewildered fascination. “Michael, you have more power than the cops? That’s sweet!”

“As weird as this sounds, you kinda do too, Jack. All Psychs of the organization get certain … powers.”

No way, Jack thought. Michael’s gotta be lying. There’s no way I’m allowed to just tell police-people what to do!

Jack couldn’t believe what Michael was saying; it was just too incredible. “Whoa! Are you serious? You’re totally lying to me. I’ve gotta see this for myself. Hey, you”—Jack pointed to the nearest officer—“I want ten men to patrol this area, and another six to block the nearest exits. Oh yeah, and I want you to close Elms High for the rest of the week, because the suspects might go there, and there’s also some other police-ey reasons and stuff.”

“Understood, sir,” the officer said, nodding. “I’ll make sure that gets done ASAP.”

Michael released a sound resembling a croaking grunt, then leaned forward and began coughing violently. His face lit up with worry, and he punched Jack on the arm. With a renewed effort he dragged Jack to the Camaro. Jack’s feet slid along the concrete while Michael hauled him away.

The parking lot was dark, the only illumination coming from three shabby lights hanging from poles along each corner.

“Ouch, what gives? You hurt me,” Jack said, rubbing his bruised arm.

“Jack! What in the hell do ya think you’re doing? Did you just give an order to a police officer?”

“Well, I just wanted to see if I could. Why, was I not supposed to?”

Michael, who at the time was unlocking the driver’s side door, dropped his keys to the ground and flung up his arms in outrage. “Are you freaking nuts? You can’t just throw around the power you’re given like that. You just sent, like, what was it again, sixteen or so police officers around doing nothing useful. You ordered them to block exits, and to close a school.”

“Relax, Michael, they’re not really gonna do it... right?”

“You better believe they will. Aww man, Paro’s gonna be pissed when he finds out about this.”

Jack gulped. He didn’t want to get Paro upset. These days, upsetting Paro meant upsetting mom, which meant broken stuff. “Can’t … can’t we just not tell him?” Jack knew his voice was cracking with fear, but he couldn’t control it.

“Everything a Psych does has to be justified and explained. The cops will obey you, but afterwards you’re held accountable for your actions. I reckon when the report comes through, and it will, Paro will be mad as hell, and ya probably just got me into trouble with you!”

“W-well why don’t we undo it? You coulda’ just, like, told them not to listen to me. I can go back and tell them it was all a mistake.”

Michael slammed his fist down on the hood of his car. “No, no, no, we can’t do that. I can’t explain everything right now, just, let’s get outta here. You screwed us both. Paro’s gonna see that file, and then we’re dead.”

“Maybe not,” said a voice from behind them. The voice startled Jack, and he spun around to see who’d approached them. Seeing the face of General Deven Moore, Michael breathed a sigh of relief and stumbled forward to meet him.

“You always show up when we need ya the most,” Michael said. “I don’t know how much you overheard, but I reckon you’ll be willing to help us, right? Jack here just goofed and gave nonsense orders to a cop.”

“Actually, I saw the whole exchange, I just didn’t say anything because I was too busy laughing.” Deven stepped under one of the shabby lights, and the amusement was plain on his face. He wore his white general’s attire, his dark muscles practically bursting from the tight-fitting uniform. To Jack he resembled a Reinforcer more than a Telepath.

“Michael, Jack needs to come with me. Don’t worry; I’ll sweep his little mistake under the rug.”

“Well, thanks, but umm, I don’t mind taking him home.”

Jack wasn’t sure if he was glad to see Deven or not. He liked the man, but every time Jack saw Deven it was either right before, or right after something bad had happened. It wasn’t that Jack blamed him for any of it; no, that wasn’t it. It was simply uneasy for Jack, because his mind automatically made the association between Deven and trouble.

“I need to bring Jack back to H.Q. It’s for his own safety, and … well, I can’t say much, but I’ll tell you this: we’ve got good reason to believe that Jack will continue to be targeted by these rogue Psychs and we’d like to keep him somewhere they can’t get to him.”

Michael looked over to Jack and then back at Deven. “That makes sense,” he said, nodding. “All right, I guess he’s going with you then, and look … I don’t mean to be, you know, umm, I’m not sure what the proper words to use are, and I don’t wanna be disrespectful or nothing.”

“Just say it,” Deven said.

“Well, you sure you’re gonna be able to make this whole thing just go away?”

Deven chuckled and leaned forward to give Michael a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Come on, Jack.”

Jack stood his ground. “I don’t feel like going right now. I wanna go home and call Juliette.”

Deven gave Jack a mischievous, amused grin. “Juliette? That’s Amanda’s daughter, isn’t it? Ah, yes, she was in there with you. So, you managed to put the moves on her, did you Jack? Ohh, I see that blush there, mister.”

Michael and Deven shared a laugh. “Don’t worry,” Deven said. “You can call her from H.Q. No one’s gonna bother you.”

“I don’t care,” Jack pouted. “I’m tired, hungry, and I wanna go home.”

Jack didn’t mean to get snippy with Deven, but this was turning out to be the longest day of his life. All he wanted was to go home, shower, and play a few rounds of Gears of War—though he actually couldn’t now, thanks to his evil mother—then roll over into a deep sleep. He didn’t want to go back to H.Q.

“We’ll get you some food,” Deven insisted. “And you can go to sleep as soon as we get there. Don’t be stubborn.”

Jack picked up his foot and slammed it stubbornly against the ground. “I’m not going! I’m not trying to be mean, umm, General Moore, but I’m done running around for the day. I wanna sleep in my own bed, in my own home. Michael, let’s go.”

“Sorry, bud, but you’re going with Deven,” he said. He sighed, lifting up his cowboy hat and scratching his blond hair. “I’m sure it’s for your own good.”

Jack felt betrayed. Michael should’ve sided with him, not Deven. “I’ll walk home then.”

“Jeeze, you’re gonna make me do this the hard way, aren’t you?” Deven mumbled. He extended his hand and grabbed Jack by the scruff of the neck.

Panic and alarm flooded Jack. He struggled against Deven, trying to pry the general’s hands off his neck, but the man was too strong. When his attempts failed, Jack searched his mind, attempting to draw power. With a start he realized it was missing; the source of his power was nowhere to be found.

It’s not there! Jack screamed in his mind. What’s going on? Where is it!

“Yes, it is,” Deven said. “Right now you can’t draw any power. It’s simple Telepathy, nothing to be alarmed about. Now, will you cooperate?”

“No!” Jack shouted, trying again to draw on his power.

“Well, that’s too bad. To be honest, I probably should’ve done this from the start.”

At once, a wave of fatigue hit Jack. He felt the weight of the day bear down on him. It had been a long day, a day filled with only a few moments of happiness amongst nonstop misery. He felt his legs go weak, his arms wobbly, and then he collapsed, as his worries and cares parted from his mind. He didn’t care where he was, or what he’d been doing. He drifted off into sleep. It was the first bit of true relief he’d felt all day.