The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Chapter One



Fingers still shaking, Thomas unfolded the photocopy of the note once again and read the last line, “I know you say that AIDS is not the end, but I do believe it is the beginning of the end. Thank you for all your help. I am always your friend, Jan”. The margins of the folded legal pad sheet were covered in the doodles that seemed to flow incessantly from the now gone Jan. Spongebob here, a flower there, and an occasional long-lashed eye here and there. The penmanship seemed to have suffered from a shake in her hands as she wrote her goodbye to the man, who had been her counselor, critic and friend. Her suicide just didn’t seem to be real, yet.

He could still see her the day they had met in his office. Twenty-three years of hope and dreams wrapped in the face of an angel she had come in to try and find an answer to why a former homecoming-queen, star athlete and budding poet could have ended up with AIDS. What she found was Dr Thomas Redding, a man who stepped into her life and through his eyes she began to see that life was a fleeting moment to be cherished. She had learned to get over the hatred she had for the stupid boy that infected her. She had learned compassion when she visited the same boy as he slowly died, drowning from incurable pneumonia. She also realized that her and Doc, as she loved to call him, had shared a relationship that none of his other patients shared. Maybe it was his lost sister that he missed; maybe it was just a heart of gold, either way she clung to him like he had taught her to cling to life itself.

Within a year though she began to take a turn for the worse and saw how her decline was affecting him, affecting them both. She had told him on Christmas day that she didn’t want to fade away in pain like she had seen others; she would rather go out like the bright bulbs adorning the little tree she had put up in his office. Thomas knew what she had meant, but believed that he had time to persuade her to not do something he saw as a final selfish act.

Thomas’ office was far removed from what one would expect of a psychiatrist in private practice. The wooden desk, though better than the social workers and clerks in the building was still small enough to be dominated large desk calendar had more doodles than appointments, which is why God made date books. His laptop sat on it and gave a ghostly blue glow to his face. The only other light was his small desk lamp. He had taken the fluorescent bulbs out years ago. He had a floor lamp for when he needed more light, but more often than not his patients liked it darker or a littler brighter by having some candles lit.

Sitting in his office, he realized it had been him who had been selfish. Putting the note into his shirt pocket, Thomas stood up from his desk and rolled his head on a very stiff neck. Looking at the clock he saw it was now going on 9pm. He was finally going to leave his office at the Department of Health after a long day of working so he could ignore the loss as best he could. Thomas

Just before three a.m. he had awakened from a dream, a minute later the dream came true as so many of his dreams had in the past. From dreams of bad things to come to gut feelings, Thomas had always been aware of this extra sense and kept it hidden. Not even Jan had known why he did some of the things he did. She was just grateful he decided to call off a trip last winter to a convention in Colorado that would have ended minutes after takeoff when the airliner crashed in a rural Ohio field, losing all on board.

His 36 years had been spent caring for others, ailing parents, an alcoholic sister, and his current charges. Cancer and a broken heart claimed his father and mother, while in college he lost Jeanette, his sister, to liver failure. Maybe if she had been a celebrity or boozing ballplayer she could have been bumped up on the donor list, however it didn’t happen and she fell ill and died begging Thomas to forgive her years of neglecting him and her duties as his sister and only living relative. Without anyone to rely on but himself, he finished college and leaped right back into helping those that usually couldn’t be helped.

He had a touch of premature gray at his temples, light blue eyes and a tall athletic frame. Thomas was in excellent shape having been an avid runner since his college days; he had been on the cross country team in high school but had to quit so he could deal with his family’s issues. Along with his running came four trips to the gym in is apartment building a week. He had dabbled in martial arts when he turned 30, but it didn’t quite make him happy. He hated to have to rely on other people to teach him. Self-reliance had become firmly entrenched and even Sensei Watanabe understood when he quit after a few short months. Jan had accompanied him to the gym and loved to lift. They had tried everything they could to boost her immune system, including exercise, to fight the ravages of the disease.

Sitting at the desk, watching a never ending stream of Life’s victim’s shuffle through his office had only slightly dampened his outlook. It had however cost him his marriage four years earlier. His wife had demanded that he take a clinical job and give up on what she termed “his Holy Grail” of helping those that couldn’t be helped. That was when he finally realized that she had married a psychiatrist, not Thomas, and he divorced her. That was one of the very few times Thomas had gone against his gut feelings and followed his heart. He asked her to marry him because he truly believed it was what he should do, he loved her even though she at times seemed cold and aloof. He had put aside the feeling she loved who he represented more than who he was. Following the long ugly divorce he swore to never again go against his initial impulse. The last Thomas had heard, she had been through another failed marriage to a lawyer that became a public defender and was on the prowl.

Folding up his laptop and putting it into his case he looked about for his keys. They had a brain of their own and often wandered away from him at the worst times. Looking at his door he saw them hanging where they had been all day, in the lock. Chuckling to himself, Thomas turned off his light and closed the door, locking it and freeing his keys from their brass confines. He walked towards the exit but paused at an opened door where a heavyset, balding man in his thirties was cussing out his computer.

“You ratass piece-of-not-working-shit! I will throw your ass out- Oh hello Thomas!” the now embarrassed Dr David Bertrand stood and walked around the desk. “How’re you holding up? I stayed so I could check on you without intruding, didn’t realize you would be this late! I am sorry about Jan. I ….. Well I am not sure what to say bro; I know she was like a sister to you.”

“Well, I guess that makes me oh-and-two on sisters then doesn’t it?” sighed Thomas as tried a weak smile as tears began to well in his eyes. Finally losing his self-control for the first time all day he began sobbing as his best friend held him and patted his back. The sobs and choked breaths seemed to last an eternity, but slowly subsided and Thomas pulled himself from David and shook his head and chuckled. “I guess I REALLY needed that, I tell people not to hold it in and that is all I have done today.”

“Thomas, I could tell you that making friends with her had been a bad idea. That you knew this may happen. I won’t. I instead will tell you that when you and she came to our house for Christmas last month, we could see that you cared for her deeply.”

“Now hold on-“

“Not like that Thomas, I know it wasn’t anything improper. Hell no one has ever thought that. It was nice to see you have someone to be able to just be Thomas with, not Dr. Redding. She was only the second person to hear most of your stories, and maybe a few even I have not heard or worse, been a part of.”

“I told her the one about you and the goat.”

“Beatrice, her name was Beatrice.”

Both men began laughing as they walked to the door, David pausing to lock up. Still chuckling as they remembered the morning that David Bertrand had woke up beside a goat that his best friend had snuck into his dorm room. The farmer had filed a police report, but seemed happy enough when she was returned that night, unharmed, while he slept. The two had often traded practical jokes, but “Beatrice” had always been the trump card.

Thomas and David had met shortly after Thomas’ sister, Jeanette, had died. Living in the same dorm at Ohio State they became fast friends. After freshman year and through their graduate school days they shared a house with a varied parade of mostly forgotten (except when they were immortalized in a prank or drunken act of stupidity) students both male and female. Sure it had been condemned within months after they left and burned during one of the student “unrests” after the Buckeyes had beaten the hated rival Michigan Wolverines, but it would always stay in their hearts as the home that provided more laughter than any other time in their friendship.

They both decided to stay in Columbus to begin their careers. Thomas joined the staff at the Department of Health, David opening up a private practice. They stayed as close as brothers throughout the first few years. When David married Mandy, his college sweetheart and immortalized in several house stories, Thomas was the best man. When Thomas married Lana, the bitch, David stood by him, whispering warnings even as she came up the aisle.

Lana, had tried everything she could to separate the two men, even fabricating lies to cause problems between Mandy and David. Luckily Mandy was able to see straight through Lana’s attempts, and to her and David’s credit they never brought them to Thomas’ attention. Looking back they had agreed they probably should have, and maybe spared Thomas some head aches and at least a year of marriage.

David had come to Department when he realized that listening to pampered wives complain about their husbands mistresses, while maintaining their own flings, had wore him out. The chance to make “a real difference in real people’s lives” had enticed him to work with his best friend and, for the most part it was without regret. He did hate having to come to work earlier then when he had is own office. He also missed the premium pay that came with a private practice. However no money could buy the close bond he and Thomas had.

Now walking down the hall beside his best friend in the world, Dr David Bertrand wrapped his arm around the shoulders of the taller man and gave him a one armed hug. They were more brothers than friends and during times of trouble each had found a steadfast anchor in the other. Walking out passed the receptionist’s desk that was now manned by an armed guard (damn that fucker Bin Laden) they waved goodnight to the plump security man and exited through the revolving door to Broad Street.

A cold light rain was falling as they walked toward the street. Thomas felt the hair on his neck prickle and stopped and watched as a bus drove through a huge puddle splashing water all over David. Not even uttering a word, David shoulders slumped and his head bowed down as he started to chuckle again completely soaked. “I think I could have done without that!” he finally muttered as he turned and waved goodbye to his colleague and friend.

“Yeah but I sure needed it”, replied Thomas as he turned down the street to the parking garage laughing. He was always early enough to get a spot here and David was always 30 minutes and a block too late to hope for anything other than the lots on Beam Street. As usual, Thomas had a spot on the bottom floor near the exit. Walking up to his cream Camry he disarmed the alarm and unlocked the doors. Tossing his bag onto his golf clubs in the back he closed the door and got in the driver’s seat, settling behind the wheel. Starting the Toyota he began revving the engine to try and hurry the car’s defroster battle with his breath’s condensation on the windshield. After a couple minutes the fog on the glass began to recede and he took off for home.

Driving down Beam Street he checked to see if David was still around but all the lots were empty. Taking a right on James he glimpsed at three figures on the sidewalk, a short redhead in a dark coat with a white fur collar and 2 young men, maybe teenagers in baggy jeans and Starter jackets. As he passed them he saw that one of the boys had a silver handgun and the other was shouting at the redhead. Loud enough to be heard inside the slowing Camry, his voice screaming “give it up lady”. The teens didn’t seem to notice the car stop.

Only when Thomas reached back, grabbed a golf club and got out yelling “I called the cops you fucking punks!” did they notice him. Running toward them like a madman had the effect on them he had hoped for; they backed up and began to run. Turning to him the redhead didn’t look like someone that had just been saved from a violent crime, in fact she looked pissed. As her would-be assailants fled into an alley she stepped in to Thomas’ path and poked him in the chest.

“What do you think you are doing?” she emphasized each word with a not so gentle poke in his sternum. “You have interrupted my plans for the evening!” she now had a scowl, a cute one, but never the less a scowl on her beautiful face.

In the shadowy light of the street lamp Thomas found himself staring at her, his mouth agape. She was about five foot six inches, slim and stood her ground with hands on hips. Her face was heart-shaped; she had the palest of blue eyes with shoulder length curly red hair that was falling in her face, heavy with the rain. She could have been twenty or thirty years old. She was one of those lucky women blessed with the look of a woman who was mature in bearing yet young in complexion. Thomas wondered why such a lovely woman was pissed off after being saved from attackers threatening her with a pistol. Why did she seem mad that he saved her?

“Uh Miss, those punks were going to hurt you or worse if you didn’t give them what they wanted. I wanted to help and now you seem mad that I was decent enough to stop? I don’t get it.”

For what seemed an eternity she looked him over. Her eyes held a strange curiosity for him, like she had never seen a person before in her life. Her scowl softened and she smiled, “It is good to know that in this sick world there are a few gallant men who would lay down their own life for a lady. I am Anna, and I apologize, I was rude.” Her voice was slightly accented, Eastern European? Curling her nose she added, “I think one of my abusers soiled himself!” and laughed a rich yet somehow hollow laugh as she tossed her head back, red curls shedding rain. She then stepped forward into the light, right hand extended.

It was at that moment, as Thomas took her hand and shook it, that his heart sunk though he hid it from his face as best he could. She could be seen more clearly now and although the light was better, the dark circles he thought were shadows under her eyes remained. Her skin was pale, almost transparent and her hand cold. She was either a junkie or, as he seen too many times, or maybe on her way down the AIDS path of despair. Her smile as he took her hand was a curious smile, like she was still trying to see through him. She then let go and stood there, waiting for his next move.

“If you want, the police station for this district is just around the corner and you may want to report this, especially with that nut cutting up muggers around here.” He turned to is car and began to walk, “I can give you a lift if you would like, and I hate to think of you being out here alone.”

Turning to her he began, “I just……..” she was gone. Nowhere to be seen although he was sure he heard hollow laughter that had to be hers from far off in the distance above him. Turning slowly once more, a perplexed look twisting his face, Thomas looked all around to no avail. The night was beginning to get foggy and fog was known to play with sound. Fog plays with sound and she just is somewhere in the fog, that had to be it he thought. Climbing back into his car, he threw the nine-iron back into the seat. Closing the door with a puzzled look Thomas continued home.

Thomas lived in a decent apartment building not far from downtown. It even had doormen which many Midwestern apartment buildings lacked. He had lived here for several years and it was pretty cheap. He had made a deal with the management company to help with employees’ issues. As it turned out, Thomas was very rarely called upon and he thought the deal was a great one.

Walking to the front door of his building, Thomas was greeted by Kevin, the night doorman. “Hiyas Doc! Hey didja see the Slasher, hehe the Citizen’s Journal is calling him the Slasher, got another would-be rapist last night? Found him with his pants down and a note shoved in his mouth written in his own hand confessing! We need a few more around here I say!” Kevin was short, fat and bald. He had been the night doorman here for twelve years and although friendly, he could be a little “too much”.

The “Slasher” was a vigilante that had plagued, or blessed depending on your point of view, the city for four years. His victims had always been criminals and thugs caught “in the act” and the few witnesses that the police spoke with had not been very helpful. Why would you want to get the person that saved your life in trouble? Witness descriptions ranged from a man in a polka dotted bikini to a mist like apparition. One witness even said it was a beautiful angel that swooped down and took the man with a gun in his face away, only for him to show up in the river, throat cut. While he could see killing to defend one’s life as a possible defense, tonight he had proven just standing up to the bastards could be as effective. Lately several “Lord” dealers had been victims. Lord was a new drug that had hit the market. Highly addictive (weren’t they all?) and a cheap derivative of crack, Lord got its name from the first person to try it. Legend stated that when a crack head had shot it up all she could say was “Lord! Lord! Lord!”. Of course the legend doesn’t mention that she then fell over dead from a heart attack. That part was bad for business.

“Let’s just hope we don’t have to ever need some ‘Slasher’ Kevin. If everyone took the law into their own hands we would have anarchy.” Kevin looked at the Dr with a little disappointment, but his post as doorman wouldn’t allow him to disagree with someone like the Doc.

Thomas walked into the elevator and rode it up. He smiled to himself as he thought of poor Kevin’s dejected look when he left him. If Kevin only knew that Thomas had grown up reading comics like Superman, X-Men and Batman he would have understood the irony that a boy that wanted more than anything to wear a cape and beat up muggers had just given him such an anti-vigilante speech.

Home was a small apartment that he kept clean and neat. Not that he was a neat freak or anything, he just was never home enough to mess it up. His breakfasts were usually a coffee at the corner café and lunch and dinner were taken in restaurants or on a bad day, the Department’s cafeteria.

The living room was the first room as you entered. A wooden armoire served as an entertainment center. The drawers had an Xbox and PS2 and all the game CDs. He didn’t play too often but he found it helped him unwind and he and Jan had some epic ESPN NHL battles. A brown leather couch and matching loveseat completed the living room.

After the living room you came to the dining room/kitchen. There was a small round table with no table cloth and 4 wooden chairs. The kitchen had many measuring cups and gadgets hanging on the wall, you could see that he liked to cook on the rare occasion he had the time. He had a shelf with a dozen cookbooks, most of them from the Food Network. Dishes that could be made quickly were Thomas’ favorites.

Finally were the bathroom and two back bedrooms. The bathroom was nothing special, sink, toilet, mirror and shower. The bedrooms were at the corner of the building so they afforded views of downtown, the Scioto River and to the area north of the building. One served as a computer room and office. Here he had set up his wireless network and desktop computer. The other bedroom had his queen sized bed and a dresser. Not much more than that except the photos he had taken when he was younger. Waterfalls, flowers, butterflies and scenics of fall foliage were the dominant themes.

Checking his answering machine he saw that he had five messages. All turned out to be friends trying to pass on condolences for his, and Jan’s, loss. The last one was from Jan’s mother, a kind warm woman. She wanted him to know that the funeral would be a small private affair and that he was most certainly welcome. Jan’s wishes of cremation would be carried out and she hoped he could help with her final wish. That final wish was to have her ashes sprinkled into the Atlantic. Their family vacationed on Cape Hatteras every year and she had even learned to surf with the help of a “yummy local” boy with “bad hair from too much salt water and a smile that flashed quicker than lightning”. That young man had been her first major high school crush and she had still talked of him often even though she had not seen him in five years. Her loss was most certainly the gain of Duke University’s coeds.

Looking over his newspaper he found little of interest. The local newspapers had been running stories about the vigilante that had killed several times in the past year. He was also blamed for the disappearances of “purported” drug dealers. Other articles of note were centered on the BCS championship and the debate over a college football tournament, and on the lighter side it seemed the Columbus Zoo’s gorilla population would grow by two in the coming spring.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a Corona, no lime in sight but what the hay. Taking a sip he noticed a pungent odor and upon a quick turn of his head, confirmed that it was him that stunk. Downing the rest of his beer only took a few minutes. Its coolness was a welcome feel to his throat. It however didn’t help the onslaught his armpits were laying on his nose.

With a whistle he walked down the short hall and into his bedroom. Disrobing and grabbing a towel he turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. He lathered up and shampooed quickly. He then spent the next ten minutes in the hot steamy stream trying to relax. Closing his eyes he was surprised when he saw the redhead’s, Anna’s face behind his eyelids. She had caught his eye, that was certain, but not just with her self-evident beauty, but a deep from within grace and nobility she carried. Traits that he was surprised to see in a woman he thought could be a junkie, given her appearance albeit an employed and intelligent junkie. She faded from his mind’s eye as the hot water began to turn cool.

Walking through the apartment one last time, Thomas turned off lights and made sure the cordless phone was back on the charger. It had a very weak battery and being a modern convenience he used it exclusively, no longer owning a corded version. Occasional power outages had made him think about buying a second phone, but he just never got around to it.

Finally he walked into the bedroom and dropped his towel on the floor and crawled under the covers. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he thought of Jan, but he wiped them away and relaxed. He stared at the ceiling and thought back to last summer when Jan and he had gone to the zoo and spent an hour watching the baby gorilla torment his mother while she tried to sleep in the shade. Finally she had reached her limit and held the little guy upside down by his leg. He screamed for a little bit but when she brought him up to her face he calmed down. He began stroking her cheeks and she let him down. He lay down by her and took a nap as she groomed him. The show was over and Thomand and Jan moved on.

Lying in bed, Thomas began to fall asleep. It was interrupted by a dreamed, or so it seemed, hollow laughter that jolted him upright like those damned stumbles that sends one into clumsy attempts to keep from falling in one’s sleep. It was the same laughter as Anna when she smelled the teen’s urine, same laughter he heard when she disappeared. Shaking the cobwebs free in his head he fluffed his pillow and rolled over. Looking up through the window he saw the moon trying to peek through the clouds and he drifted into a thankfully dreamless slumber.



Against his better judgment Thomas went to work the next morning. David agreed to take most of his workload, but he could not take it all. Their job wasn’t to hand out leaflets and phone numbers to people. It was to evaluate the ones who the staff had deemed to be in need of additional help, therapy. Unlike many health departments across the country, theirs had four psychiatrists on staff and a large staff of nurses who were specially trained in dealing with the mentally ill, addicts, and other cases that normally didn’t get the benefits of proper mental health care. The program had benefited from some oversight of the State House’s penny pinchers and they knew at anytime they could lose their funding.

Seated in his office was a pregnant girl who had to be a teen still. She had been talking of suicide when she was speaking to Agnes Scarpitti downstairs at the Help Desk. When she first sat down Thomas just stared at her. She sat across from Thomas in an Abercrombie tee which looked like it had seen better days. Thin, blonde and pail she had a twitch in her left eye. Had she been able to enjoy life up to now she would have been a very pretty girl, but life did not appear to have been enjoyable and it had ridden her into the ground.

“What the hell, you going to stare at me all day? Jesus if I fucking was serious about suicide I think I would choose an easier way than being fucking bored to death!” She had that white-trash twang that seemed to show up on Jerry Springer no matter if his Nazi-Adulterous-Gay-Incestuous guest was from the South or Maine.

“So you’re not serious about killing yourself?”

“I dunno.” She shifted in her chair, not making eye contact.

“Well one minute you say you will, but now you say you won’t. What made you tell Agnes downstairs you would kill yourself?”

“I dunno.” Still she stared at the floor.

“Okay”, Thomas looked at her paperwork to find her name, “Misty. I am looking at your paperwork here. You want to keep the baby, correct?”

“Yes!” Misty looked up then. In her eyes Thomas could see a fierce conviction. It was a welcome relief. Too often the women he saw in this circumstance only cared for themselves and hated the fact that a pregnancy could slow their partying down.

“You truly want the baby?” He already knew the answer, but wanted her to say it aloud once more.

“Yes Dr! He is all I have of my Johnny. He was killed a month ago, the police said it was some vigilany, vigil-“

“Vigilante?”

“Yes! Vigilante that did it. The cops said he was trying to mug some lady and he got cut real bad. Someone nearly cut his head off! He didn’t deserve that! Who the fuck cares about some purse?”

Visions of him running to Anna’s aid filled his mind, and anger was beginning to seep into his thoughts. “So he was supposed to be allowed to mug some woman?”

“I dunno!”

“What do you know Misty? Do you think it would be ok if I came up to you and the late Johnny and steal YOUR purse?” Thomas remained outwardly calm, but he did lean across his desk a little and pointed at her.

“Johnny would kill you and you know it!” Back came the Jerry Springer version of Misty, trying to sound tough the only way she knew how, ghetto threats and bravado.

“Over a purse?” Thomas opened his hands to her as if he were pleading. He was shocked when for once his words seemed to have the desired effect.

Misty just stared past him, tears welling up in her eyes. She just sat there, mouth agape, staring past Thomas, staring at the wall behind him.

“Misty? Misty?”

Misty shook her head like she was trying to shake her brains loose. Finally she stopped. Pulling the hair from her face that had stuck to her tear-streaked cheeks she asked, “Yeah Doc?”

“If you killed yourself you would not only die, but you would kill all you have left of Johnny. Right?”

“Oh my God”, Misty the Coherent seemed to have made it back.

“Misty, I just lost one of my best friends. She killed herself yesterday. I would give anything to have a few minutes to talk to her, to spend any bit of time with her so I could say my goodbyes, to ask her to reconsider. I can’t do that, I can’t change anything about the past, all I can do is try and make a better future for myself, not make the same mistakes as I get older.”

Shuffling through her folder Thomas pulled out a couple sheets of paper. “I am looking at your paperwork. You started Community College in the fall. Have you signed up for Winter Quarter?”

Misty seemed puzzled by the way the doctor had changed gears on her. “No. I guess I dropped out.”

“Why did you go in the first place?”

“I wanted to get a job as a medical assistant or something. I wanted to make good money and get out of the shithole projects.”

“You think getting a good job is the key?”

“Yeah I guess.”

“How were your grades?”

“Well I got 2 A’s, a B and a C.”

“Not too shabby.”

“Ya think?” Misty brightened at the praise.

“You think.”

“You think.” Misty then smiled. The weight of her world seemed to lift a little and she sat up straighter in her chair. “Johnny said I didn’t need school, that his friends could have me help them and make some real money. I just- I guess quitting school was, well it was just plain quitting.”

“I think so too. Misty we all want to quit every once and a while, Life, school, a crappy job. You know why some people are rich?”

“They didn’t quit?”

“Exactly. Don’t quit now Misty. You can be in charge of your life. I would like you to get enrolled for Winter Quarter. You may be able to get through Spring Quarter as well. Have your baby, take Fall Quarter off maybe, but then you get right back into classes and work hard to make a better life for you and your child.”

“Who will care for the baby when I am in class? How will I pay for my apartment?”

“Childcare is available. I have many resources that can help you. The apartment is another thing. How well do you get along with your parents?”

“Truthfully?”

“That’s the only way to speak when we are in my office, and everything we talk about stays here.”

“It broke my mother’s heart when I moved in with Johnny.”

“Think it will mend a little if you called?”

“I miss her. I miss my Dad and shit head little brother too. I haven’t seen them in months.”

“My phone’s right here.”

Sliding the phone across his desk, Thomas stood. “I need to get a drink Misty. Be right back. Oh, dial seven to get an outside line. ” Misty looked up and smiled as she dialed. Thomas grabbed his coffee cup and walked out.

“Mom? No, I am fine. I know. I’m sorry. What? Oh I love you too!” Misty’s voice, filled with choked back tears and joy faded behind him. This had been way too easy. He was tempted to look around and find the hidden camera but thought better of it and continued down the hall.

He approached David’s office and seeing the door open, poked his head in. David sat behind his desk looking rather dumbfounded. Noticing Thomas he looked up and with a dismayed voice asked, “How can you handle Wendell? That man is just gone! He should be committed! I mean the conspiracy theories about the Mayor, City Council, some Chevy dealership and the lunatic that has been offing criminals! If I could have found his paperwork I just may have sent him to the hospital. Agnes just laughed at me when I called her looking for it!”

Thomas burst out laughing, “Oh my God! That is too funny!”

“What?” asked David, sensing something was very wrong.

“Uh David, he really isn’t a patient. He is the guy that stands out side the corner coffee house with the signs saying ‘The End is nigh’ and such. He comes in and just rambles on for a while, and then he leaves.”

“Not a patient? You mean I just sat here and heard how the Mayor is the one cutting throats in the Bottoms and he and some Chevy salesman are in league with the CIA?”

“I knew there was something about that Mayor…..”

David just moaned and put his head on his desk, fingers interlaced behind his ears. “I owe you. I owe you big time bud. You get Pissy Missy next time she comes in!”

“Okay okay. Sounds fair. I have to get back to my office and check on my patient. She was making a call.”

David just waved with one hand, face still buried in his daily planner.

Walking back in to his office Thomas found Misty standing by his desk, tears running down her face but smiling. “Doc, they say I can come home! Mom was thrilled when she heard my grades and thinks school is a great idea. Dad was, well he grumbled and started in about ‘gonna be rules young lady’ but I think he was crying too! Thank you!”

She hugged him then, fierce beyond her skinny arms. He could feel her belly press against him and thought the baby may have a shot at a decent life. She didn’t need therapy, no hour long sessions dealing with her past. She just needed a kick in the pants. Maybe he could write a book called “The kick in the pants solution” and make millions, go on Oprah and tour the world and stay away from Columbus Ohio for a while.

Misty walked out of the office, head held much higher then when she came in. Dr Thomas Redding sat a little taller in his chair, an inner demon having been beaten, at least quelled for now.

That had been one of the easiest sessions he had ever witnessed. It was also exactly what he needed to see, that he was doing good. Ninety-nine percent of the time he would have been left in the office by a kid who thought they knew everything, didn’t need some old guy telling them how to run their already screwed up lives. You would think someone had dumped genius tablets into the water system! Unfortunately after one of the brainiacs left his office, he ended up seeing them over and over for the next few years until they gave up on themselves, died or in the rarest case, figured out life.

Smiling to himself Thomas looked at the framed photo of Jan and him taken last year at Cedar Island Amusement Park. The roller coaster behind them made a fitting background for two people who had had a great and frightening ride full of ups and downs, twists and turns.

Even then the dark circles under her eyes gave away the fight she had begun. They reminded him of Anna and once again he realized she had snuck into his conscious thoughts.