Fathom by Mikel Parry

CH-FREAK FAMILY

Bright sunlight streamed through a large window framing a magnificent blue sky. The warming rays fell on a long hospital bed sitting dead center in the room. In it lay a waking Demo. Everything felt warm and fresh to him. It was a new beginning that had ushered in a promising life with renewed purpose. Looking around the room he saw familiar faces; Jacky, Bob Cat, Mars, and even Roslin.

’Bout time . . . I thought you’d never wake up,” Bob Cat spoke first, smiling.

Demo was elated. He could barely contain his joy at seeing them all here together. At the same time he felt a nagging sense of guilt for what he had done to get here.

“Where am I? How long have I been out?”

“In the hospital for a few days now . . . I told them not to put you on ice,” answered Bob Cat smugly.

Demo looked at Jacky.

“Jacky, I’m so sorry about all of this. I’m so sorry about Martinez.”

Jacky shook her head. She was still showing signs of grief, but let it fall to the wayside for now.

“It’s okay, Demo . . . Bobby explained everything.. It’s just good to see that you’re okay.”

Demo smiled. An enormous weight had been lifted. He began to try and sit up when a sharp pain sent him back down onto the bed. He grabbed at his side and felt a thick layer of gauze.

“You got hit pretty hard, Demo. I’d give it a rest for now,” said Bob Cat, pointing at the wound.

“You’ve done enough for now, son. Rest assured we’ll have everything cleared up,” Roslin added.

Roslin’s face looked like he was twelve rounds deep into a boxing match. They each had their own painful reminder of their friendly companionship.

Bob Cat hits hard.

“You’re a hero, Demo; a real living and breathing hero,” Roslin continued. “You can be proud of that. You’ve saved hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives. You solved the case of the century.”

“But the hospital, the people . . . are they—”

“They’re completely safe. We did exactly what you instructed in your little note. The secret evacuation practically went unnoticed.” Roslin leaned in and whispered, “But I do have to say, not that you care, that it came at an astronomical cost of time and resources. Speaking of which, you owe me some new hardware, and Jo will probably need some therapy for a while, but we’ll discuss that later. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Demo nodded. He had come to respect Roslin despite everything that had happened.

“I suppose I owe you an apology,” Mars said, stepping in from the back of the group.

“I could have never fathomed that Judge Ridding was capable of such heinous acts. I had you pegged all wrong. I could have ended up as just another victim of his cold-blooded evil. I thank you, Demotreus Ward.”

“We all owe you an apology, Demo. We should have never doubted that you could solve this,” added Roslin. “You’re special, Mr. Ward, very special. Now, if you all don’t mind, I think Mr. Ward needs some time to rest.”

Jacky clacked her heels and gave Roslin a rebellious stare, but she quickly pacified herself and reluctantly agreed.

“Yes, he’s been through hell and high water. He deserves some time off.”

The group began to funnel out, Jacky and Roslin predictably quarreling as they went. Only Bob Cat stayed behind. He looked happy and relaxed.

“You did good ole’ boy . . . real good. They say that catching that guy solved one of the biggest cases in history. I guess I’m sorry about doing what I did to your face,” Bob Cat said, pointing at the massive bruise on Demo’s face.

Demo sniffed the air and grinned..

“Bobby, you quit! You don’t smell, you’re not shaking, and no gum!”

Bob Cat smiled.

“Yeah, that’s right. Things are kinda looking up, I suppose.”

A mischievous grin took over Demo’s face.

“You and Jacky?”

“ What fat lip blabbed that news? It ain’t nothing . . . we just had a moment or two, what with all the emotions . . .”

“Relax Bobby, it’s a good thing. Heaven knows you need it. But you do have some explaining to do. Just how did you manage to show up at just the right moment?”

Bob Cat let out a sigh and shrugged.

“That’s weird . . . I thought you were the smart end of the donkey that I’m always asking questions to . . .”

Demo remained silent.

“Fine, fine, don’t let me have my fifteen minutes of fame. I did what you said to do; I took a guess and ran with it.”

“Meaning?”

“You said it, don’t you remember? The guy was good—too good—and we needed to stop doing what we were doing. So when you gave me that note asking for information on that piece of crap judge’s wife’s hospital room, I went digging. I found it odd even for a freak like you to suddenly care so much about it. I acted the part and played it as best as I could. I could then watch you from the sidelines like a cheerleader. Must of worked because that raving loony never saw it coming. I’m just glad I got there when I did. You scared the pebbles out of me. Don’t ever go do that again, by the way.”

“But you hit me really, really hard. Did you have to make it that real?”

Bob cat shrugged.

“Well, maybe I didn’t fake everything. That actually felt kind of good. You have a way of not clamming up sometimes.”

Demo chuckled. He was beyond relieved to have his family back together; his beautiful, freak show family.

“Freak family,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, I just need to get some rest. I’m still not all there.”

Bob Cat was heading for the door when he stopped and tossed a jangling set of keys to Demo. The keys landed on the bed’s crisp white sheets.

“I brought you your rust wagon. Figured you’d probably be done with walking for a while.”

Demo smiled and nodded.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Once lone, Demo rested his head against his pillow. It had been ages since he’d had a bath and a clean bed to sleep in. But now he felt like he could move forward. He relaxed, shut his eyes, and for once slept like a baby.

After a few days of rehab, antibiotics, and fervent lecturing by the hospital staff about remembering to take his pills, Demo was released back into the world. But now it was a world that had nothing much left in it that he could call his own; a partially burned down apartment, a crappy car, a raggedy old suit, and a pair of shoes.

I need to get a real job.

When he got to his car, he pulled out the keys. Looking up, he saw a piece of paper carefully stuck in the windshield wiper. Snatching it out roughly, he let out a sigh of frustration.

“You have got to be kidding me. Can’t I ever catch a break?”

Suddenly, the buzzing vibration of a cell phone came from inside the car.

That’s not mine. My phone is busted.

Curious now, he opened the car to a surprise. Laying in the driver’s seat was his old pistol, barely recognizable having been cleaned and polished. The buzzing started again. Tracing the noise to its source, he opened the glove box. Inside was a high tech looking cellphone, the likes of which he had never seen. He grabbed it and brought it up to his ear.

No one was on the other end. No cordial greeting, no breathing, nothing. He took a few deep mantra breaths to slow his reactive mind. Everything up to this point in his life had molded him into something even he had never thought possible. His work, his legacy, everything he had experienced, both good and bad, was as much a part of him as his name. An unknown future stretched before him—an ever unfolding saga of good versus evil, beckoning him to follow. This was his cause—this was his purpose—he knew that now. He was a freak; but a freak that was willing to fight; a freak willing to give everything in hopes of making tomorrow a little better. He was no hero, no saint, but he was Demotrius Ward, consultant detective, and that was finally good enough for him. Rubbing his dry lips together said the only thing that mattered anymore.

“I’m ready . . .”