Chapter 11

Entering the apartment, I walked into the living room turning on the television, scanning channels, looking for news broadcasts, and then selecting ABC. The evening news was in progress and the main story was nuclear weapons. (In my mind, I knew "The Complex", had heir hand in broadcasting). One of the reporters was roaming the streets, interviewing people, asking for their opinion in light of the new news about the program. He asked the same question of several people: "Do you feel safer knowing our nuclear arsenal will now be foolproof?" and their responses were almost identical, as if they were reading from the same script.

"Yes, I feel safer knowing that our nuclear arsenal cannot be tampered with". I chuckled again, thinking to myself of how little time it took The Complex, to get it on the air.

"Jay, I don't see the humor in all of this! We're talking about some serious shit and you think it's funny!" Max stated, seeming agitated that I did find it humorous.

I replied, not laughing, but with a smile, "It's under control Max,"

He looked at me in an odd way and leaned back in the sofa chair. "I wonder if the "whole" human race would see the humor in all of this," he said under his breath.

I turned off the television and stood up, stretching. "My butt is dragging. I'm going to get some sleep and I might not wake up for a week."

"That's all? That's it?" he asked, leaning forward, throwing his arms in the air.

"The ball is in their court, now we wait. Good night Max," I said walking back to my room.

"Damn, 5:01 am," I said, reaching over to turn the alarm off. I had intended to turn it off last night, but I fell asleep seconds after I lay in the bed. I dragged myself from under the blanket and showered. After making coffee, I fetched the newspaper from the porch, sat at the table drinking coffee, and read the paper.

I got up, going to my bedroom to change into my sweats so I could walk. After changing, I went toward Max's room to wake him up, but decided to let him sleep in. I stepped out onto the porch and stretched my muscles to limber up.

For some time I walked up and down the drives, winding all through the apartments but in no particular direction. In all, calculating, I had walked approximately two and a half miles and decided three would be enough this morning. Many of the tenants were now leaving for work. I waved at some that passed, looking in their minds, just to get a sense of the ambiance in this area.

I turned to cross the street, glanced to my right, then left, and stopped, waiting on a car to pass. I looked at the driver and then quickly at the passenger as he stretched his arm out of the window holding a pistol. I turned quickly in the opposite direction to run and heard three shots fired. I felt a jolting sting in my back causing me to fall lifeless onto the ground. As I lay, I heard tires squealing then quickly fading away.

I lay still with my head being pummeled in the grass, realizing I had been shot. Moments later, my vision became foggy as I lay face down, feeling no pain. I heard voices around me shouting, "Call an Ambulance."

Then someone spoke in a low tone, "I think he's dead, he's not moving." Suddenly, everything turned black.

One week later!

"His eyes are open. Hi sweetie, how are you feeling?" Amy asked, as she sat next to my bed, holding my hand. I slowly moved my eyes to her right, seeing my mother with her face buried in her hands, crying.

I reached my hand out to her as she took it. It took everything I had but I managed a little smile, indicating I was going to be fine. Lowering herself to her knees beside the bed, she held my hand to her face, tears streaming down. She couldn't hide the fear within her. (As I probed her mind) She had been worrying for over a week thinking I might die at any time. I also new from her that I was shot three times, in the back, neck and shoulder.

I looked back at Amy, and tried squeezing her hand but the strain in my shoulder muscle was too painful.

She saw the pain in my face and pressed her hand to my body, saying, "Lie still." She moved my hand to her lips. "You had us worried for a while."

I tried speaking but the words wouldn't come out. I was hit near the vocal cords and the tissue surrounding it was swollen, prohibiting them from functioning properly.

"Don't try to talk," mom said.

Although I knew everything they knew, I opened my mind with each of them to communicate.

"I love you Mom, please try not to worry, I'm going to be fine," I conveyed.

"I knew you should have waited before you took all of this on your shoulders. I pleaded with your father before you left to convince you to give it more time, at least until you were older."

"It wouldn't have made any difference and Dad knew that. I would have done it anyway. He and I both knew the time was right."

"I don't care. Whatever it is your doing that caused this to happen is to much for one person to take on, especially someone of your age."

"Mom, there's no point in discussing this. The wheels are all ready in motion and it won't be long before it will be over, and all of this will be a memory."

"I hope so Jay," (she thought) squeezing my hand.

"Mom, could I be alone with Amy for a while?"

"Sure, I'll be out in the waiting room." She leaned over kissing me on the cheek and walked out.

"What was that all about?" Amy asks. (Verbally)

"She is worried about me. But, that's what mothers do," I replied. (In thought)

"I am too!" she said, continuing to speak as I thought.

"I love you, so don't you worry either. Everything is going to be okay. How's our baby?"

"She's fine."

"She!" I bolted back. "And what make you think it's a she?"

"I don't know, wishful thinking, maybe. What do you wish for?"

"I'll be happy either way," I thought, trying to smile.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, indicating yes.

I began think about Max, Knowing he was outside the door. I sensed from Amy's thoughts, he was feeling guilty.

"Would you send Max in? I need to speak with him."

"He is feeling guilty right now. He blames himself for what happened," she replied, feeling sympathy for him.

"Give me a few minutes with him, alone."

She stood, leaned over, kissed me, and then walked out. Max entered a moment later, a guilt look shown upon his face as he slowly entered the room. I could see in his mind that he had accepted all the blame. He felt to ashamed to speak and held his head down as his eyes were cast toward me.

"Hey Max." I greeted him. (In thought)

His expression was one as if he that put me here.

I pointed to the chair next to the bed, for him to sit. I began by thinking to him. "You know, I did this stupid thing. I got up one morning and went walking without awakening my bodyguard. He was asleep and I figured it would be all right to take a walk without him. Don't you think that was stupid of me?"

"I should have heard you getting up!" he stated, (verbally) still holding himself accountable.

Immediately, I opened my mind to him of that morning, showing him that I was intentionally quiet so to not awaken him. In addition, that in my mind I held myself only, to blame for what happened. (Without him realizing what I had done, I mentally blocked all thoughts of guilt from his mind.) I then saw his expression change to that of wanting me to get well.

"You were in a coma for over a week. Don't you imagine it's time you got back to work?" he said, cracking a joke.

Little did he know that my bodies healing process was progressing much faster than normal, thanks to dad. While in that coma, Dad and I were in communication all along. Without telling me, but allowing me to discern on my own, I realized I was capable of accelerating the antibodies in my metabolism. A rapid change, was now taking place within me.

The door opened and the Doctor and nurse appeared.

"Well son, I see you are back with us," the doctor said, with a quick smile, and then looking somewhat shocked at the chart he was looking over. "Nurse! I want another blood test drawn up and on my desk immediately, Stat!" he demanded, with a concerned expression about his face.

He continued looking over my chart when, I asked, (In thought) "See an inordinate amount of Protein activated, Doc?"

"Yes," he replied, and then quickly looked at me, speculating how I knew. He also imagined that I had spoken the question to him.

The nurse had come over and was about to draw blood from me when I conveyed another thought to him while his eyes were fixed on me. "The blood work won't be necessary, Doc."

He stood perplexed and then asked nervously, "What the hell! How are you doing that?"

The nurse looked at him, wondering who and what was he asking. "I'm sorry Doctor Vinton. What was that?"

"She can't hear me Doc, ask her to leave."

His expression, remained dumfounded, and then, finally grasping what was taking place, he stated, "Nurse, forget the blood work, that's all for now."

"Yes Doctor," she replied, and remained befuddled, but walked out.

"I think an explanation is in order. You see Doc, I stimulated the antigen within my body, producing a large number of proteins that are of high molecular weight, that in turn increases my immune response time, oh, by as much as ninety percent. Instead of the six weeks you would have predicted for my recovery, five days is sufficient. The week and a half I have been here was excessive, but due to unforeseen circumstances, my recovery time was extended. Tomorrow I should be up walking around," I explained.

"I think explaining to me how you are communicating without talking would be first in order, young man," he accentuated, as a man thirty-five years my senior.

"Telepathically!" or in our case, co-telepathically."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, we can have this discussion in silence." I simplified, waiting for his response.

"How are you able to do this?" he asked. (Thinking)

"Technically, you wouldn't understand, however, I will say it was a gift at birth."

"May I ask why you are revealing this to me."

"Tomorrow, when I walk out, you will need to know how it was possible. If you understand how, no questions will be raised. Is that fair?"

"If you explain exactly how this method incurred, it will suffice," he stated, (Verbally) wanting to know the procedure for accelerating tissue growth.

"I'm sorry, Doc, the progressive growth of proteins, as in my case, was triggered telekinetically and can't be reproduced in the form of antiserum, nor be altered in any form genetically."

He said in thought, "So, your saying nothing could be produced that would achieve the same affect."

"Sorry Doc!"

"Just think what." he stopped his thought, pondering what may could have been, and then looked at me, "There is nothing I can do in here to assist you is there."

"I'm healing pretty fast Doc," I said, (thinking) insinuating there was nothing he could do.

"Well, either way, I'll come by tomorrow and see you again," he said, (Verbally) shaking his head as he walked out.

"Max," I said, (Verbally) and then coughed a little, clearing my throat. "It seems as if I have my voice back."

"I don't think I will ever understand anything I've seen these past weeks," Max groaned, walking over to me. "Just think, I can never tell my grand kids what I've seen, and even if I could, they would laugh at me."

"Max, fetch me a wheelchair!"

"But."

"Go ahead, it's okay!" I assured him.

Just after he walked out, Amy stepped in, saying, "A Catharine Donaldson is out here to see you."

"Come in and bring her with you," I said, pushing myself to where I was sitting up.

"You're speaking!"

"Yes, come on in," I concurred, clearing my throat again.

Amy stepped in holding the door for Catherine, saying, "He said to come in."

They both came in and Catherine walked over and hugged me, then turned to look at Amy. "He has been a good friend these past weeks, you have a good man to look after."

I knew they had introduced themselves in the hall so I didn't bother.

"Catherine was visiting her brother here in the hospital and stopped by to see you," Amy stated.

"Yes, I come to the hospital once a week to visit him. The Doctor said it sometimes helps if he hears a familiar voice. However, I don't think it's helping him. He's been in a coma for two years since his motorcycle accident and I haven't lost hope yet, but the Doctor's don't seem to have the answers to any of my questions," she said, almost crying as her lips quivered as her nose sniffed.

"Give it more time. These things have a way of working out sometimes," I suggested, taking her hand and slightly squeezing it, to comfort her.

Max entered with a wheelchair and asked, "What now?"

"Bring it over here and help me into it," I demanded, turning my legs of the side of the bed. Amy quickly took my arm and steadied me as I sank into the wheelchair. "Now, lets go visit Donald."

"How did you know his name?" Catherine asked, in surprise.

"You must have mentioned it sometime in the past!"

"No I didn't!"

"What's the difference? Let's go see him," I muttered. "Come on, push Max!"

"Where are you going with him?" Mom asked, not understanding anything of what was happening.

"It's all right Mom, were going to visit another patient in room 812," I said as they followed me down the hall.

"How did you know he was in room 812?" Catherine asked, trying to figure me out.

"You can't go through life knowing everything, Catherine!" I declared, infuriating her.

"Amy, I hope you're capable of dealing with him after you two marry." Catherine stated jokingly, remembering only that she and I are friends.

"He does have a way about him that sort of..."

When we entered Donald's room, Catherine immediately rushed over to him, kissing his forehead. No one had any idea why we had come up here, supposing only that I was being a good neighbor. Catherine began talking to Donald, introducing us, having nothing other than that to say to him, being emotional.

I was situated about eight feet from his bed and looked into his mind. "Donald, my name is Jay Bolton. I'm a friend of Catherine's and I'm going to open your mind, allowing you to see and feel the world around you. I know your mind is active and I don't want you to be afraid, do you understand."

"Yes, but why is my mind locked in this place. Why can't I get out?"

"Calm yourself Donald. First, I want you to see the world around you and what you can expect. I'm going to open my mind and let you in. Only to those places that will help you cope once you have come from where you are. Do you know where you are?"

"No!"

"Do you remember being in an accident?"

"I remember being in pain."

"You were in an accident and you're in a comatose state. I'm going to open my mind now and you will understand everything of what I am saying." I said, opening my mind up to him.

A brief moment passed. "Now that you understand, I want you to awaken yourself and see life for what it is. Can you do that?"

"I'm trying."

"No, Donald. You can't force your mind. You have to relax and think yourself into awakening. Now relax and allow yourself to awaken as you would after a long nights rest."

Just as suddenly, his eyes opened, looking at each of us.

Catherine screamed his name, witnessing this, "Donald!" She placed her arms over him with hugs and kisses, crying profusely. Amy put her arms around me and began crying, excited and happy I had helped him. Catherine had no idea what had transpired.

"Sis, if I hadn't seen you a minute ago I would never have recognized you."

"What! What are you talking about?"

"Jay showed me your face, as you are now."

"What are you saying? What is he saying Jay?" she asked, looking at me for an answer. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Jay was in my mind. He showed me how to awaken myself. He allowed me to see everything," Donald explained excitedly. Catherine continued crying while holding him tightly.

"You never cease to amaze me Jay," Max stated, patting me on the shoulder. I looked up over my shoulder and saw moistened eyes.

"Donald, take care of your sister. Remember, it will be a gradual process, getting your body conditioned after two years of laying on your ass."

"Your right about that!" he replied, laughing.

Catherine turned to me, being shocked I would make that comment. "Jay!" she spouted. Then lunged her body next to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she shouted, kissing all over the side of my face.

"As we returned to my room, mom stood up walking toward us. "Your father just called. He is still in a meeting with those men from the CIA, and may not be back until late or even until morning," she explained, seeming worried.

"Don't fret Mom, it's nothing to worry over, I promise!" I said, trying to calm her. In fact, he was watching the progress being made, concerning the program and who was taking the bait. Dad had plucked all the details from me while I remained comatose. I chuckled thinking of the similarities between Donald and I. In the same way I coaxed him into relaxing his mind, allowing him to free himself, dad had to do the same with me, only I was more hardheaded than Donald. While comatose and connected to Dads mind, I was convinced by mind over matter, I could force myself awake, until finally, after failing with logic, succumbing to Dad's instruction and relaxed. He had a good laugh at me.

Mom took a cab back to the hotel while Amy stayed with me a while longer. Max remained outside my door. When four Secret Service agents arrived, I knew they were sent for added protection. Max drove Amy back to the Hotel at 9:00 pm. Two agents sat in the room with me as the other two stood in the hallway. Max returned in an hour, having eaten a quick bite on the way. I heard him telling one of the agents, they thinking I was asleep.

The following morning, at 8:30, just after the Doctor signed my release forms, we went out the corridor leading to the third deck of the parking garage where Max's car was parked. The agents surrounded me, vigilantly looking in every direction. Just as we approached his car Max slammed me to the concrete shouting, "Get down! Get down!" Then we heard a shot fired and Max fell before me. I peered over the fender as the others fired shots at the assassin and locked into his mind.

"Stop firing!" I shouted, then again shouting until the firing subsided. I stood up, walking toward the shooter, having him hold his pistol high in the air, having control of his mind. I slowly walked toward him as his eyes opened wide, not understanding what was happening to him.

"We've got him in sight, back away now!" one of the agents shouted. I threw my arm out at them to stop and they held steady, also not understanding that I had control of their minds. As I approach the assassin and stopped within five feet of him and could see the anguish flowing from his face, struggling to move his arm but unable to.