A Slice of Unkindness

by D C McLaughlin

  She sighed and took off her medical smock and dropped her black, canvas bag on the table. Edgar noticed she looked tired. “Rough night at the clinic, sweetie?”

  Morris shook off her worry. “Nae more than usual. I’m not too tired ta make breakfast for me twa favorite people. Waffles and bacon?”

  Warren nodded eagerly.

  “Bacon? Real bacon, not lab grown meat?” Edgar asked incredulously.

  Morris smiled and nodded.

  “Where’d you get it? You know how hard it is to come by real meat.”

  Morris smiled. “It’s a blessing tha fae woman put on me family seven generations ago. She promised our clan we’d never go hungry.” She paused for effect, enjoying their surprised expressions. “Nah! Mr. Jessups owed me a favor. ’E managed to get ahold of a surplus of meat bound for some laird’s table. Said next week ’e might be able to get us some venison. Imagine that! Real deer meat! I’ll have to tink of something really special ta make with tha’.”

  She tied back her red curls, donned her apron and fired up the stove.

  “Morris… before you get started…” Warren began hesitantly.

  Both women turned on him.

  “I… I think I’m ready to take that blue stuff now… if you please.”

  Morris just stared at the boy for a long moment. Then her eyes turned to Edgar.

  “We had a bit of a long talk,” Edgar said. “I explained some things to him.”

  Morris raised one eyebrow. “Hope you dinna tell ’im too much!” She dug around in her black bag until she found the vial full of blue liquid. “’Ere you are,” she said as she passed it to him. “Bottoms up! Ta whole thing. An’ while I’m watching ya!”

  Warren turned it over in his hands, inspecting the glass suspiciously. “Is this gonna make me sick? Because waffles sound really good right now.”

  “Ooch! Nae, me wee lad. It’s medicine, not poison!” Morris assured him.

  “Or sleepy?”

  Both women shook their heads.

  “Then…what is it?” he asked dubiously.

  Morris sighed in frustration. “It’s a blend of vitamins and minerals I don’t think tay were giving ya in your gruel at Miss Madeline’s. It’ll also purify your system of eatin’ that chemical rubbish they call ‘Mulligan Stew’. Promise me ya will never touch tha stuff again! If ya do, you’ll need another dose of Madame Morris’ Blu-Goo antidote ’ere. Now drink up, me laddie!”

  They could tell he still wasn’t convinced. He sighed and frowned. He pulled the cork out of the bottle. He sniffed it warily. He gave them one more doubtful look, then, squeezing his eyes shut, he upended the vial and drank it all in one gulp.

  Morris had her arms crossed in front of her chest. She too was less than convinced that he had actually swallowed it. “Stick out yer tongue an’ show me ya downed it, lad!” she ordered.

  He dutifully obeyed. Then he smacked his lips a bit as he considered. “Kinda tastes like licorice.”

  Edgar sniffed. “You’ve never heard of coffee or tea but you know what licorice is?”

  He nodded. “We weren’t allowed it but the older boys would steal it from time to time and share. Sometimes. I’ve tasted it before. Once.”

  He started to say something else but then he suddenly convulsed and fell, jerking and twitching to the floor. Edgar gave a shout and lunged to catch him before he hit his head.

  Warren was seizing.

  “I thought you said it wouldn’t do this to him!” Edgar exclaimed as she tried to keep him from hurting himself.

  “It should’na do anythin’ o’ tha sort!” Morris defended as she tried to make sure nothing was tight around his neck. Warren’s eyes were rolled back into his head. “It must be those damned experiments they were doing on ’im,” she reasoned. “My God! What were they pumping ’im full o’?”

  “Can’t you give him something to counteract it?” Edgar demanded.

  “Without knowin’ what chemical they used… nae!”

  Warren was starting to turn blue and foam was coming out of his mouth.

  “DO SOMETHING!” Edgar ordered in desperation.

  Morris ran to her bag and pulled up a shot. She ran back and stabbed it into Warren’s shoulder.

  The result was almost immediate. The boy’s violent tremors ceased. Morris checked his vitals. She looked at his pupils and checked his pulse. She gave a relieved sigh. “’E’s out of danger… fer now. Tha poor lil’ whelp! What did they do ta ya in tha terrible place?”

  Edgar sighed and brushed the stray hairs out of her face. She scooped up the boy, cradling him gently against herself. She marveled at how little he weighed. He should have been so much taller and heavier.

  She carried him to the place they had designated as his bedroom until they could get a proper mattress and bed set up. Edgar had made a room out of stacks of books, furnished it with a nightstand with an electric candle, and Morris had made a nest out of some blankets and pillows donated to the clinic. It looked more like a campsite or a child’s fort than a proper bedroom but Warren had been delighted to have somewhere all alone to sleep instead of a large, stark room full of beds with other orphans and a tiny, pot-bellied stove that never put out enough heat.

  “Waffles and bacon will have ta wait until ’e’s come to. I’ll make ’im a separate plate and put it aside,” Morris said as she tucked him in.

  Edgar remembered how thrilled Warren had been to have more than one thin scrap of material for a blanket. Morris had given him three blankets and a thick, heavy comforter. He was warmer at night here in the stacks than he had ever been at Madeline’s. And he was surrounded by stories and dreams in print. He seemed to think it was heaven.

  Edgar sighed and curled up beside him. “You’ve worked all night long,” she said to Morris. “I’ll sit with him ’til he comes to. You have breakfast and go to bed.”

  Morris nodded. “Then I’ll make a plate for ya too, dearie.”

  Morris bent low over him and checked his vitals once more.

  “He will wake up… right?” Edgar asked.

  Morris nodded. “I expect him to be right as ta rain we never get in an hour or twa,” she reassured. “I gave ’im the same injection we give ta drug addicts to clear them out. ’E’s reacting exactly as they do.”

  Then she sighed and shook her head. “Of course it would halp if we knew what drugs we were dealing with…”

  Edgar shook her head. “That ain’t gonna happen anytime soon,” she said with a frown.

  Morris tsked and headed back to the kitchen.

  Edgar sighed and wondered once again what they had done in taking on this poor child. His past was a mystery. His future might be just as murky.

  They faced so many questions and few answers.

  Warren Corbie.

  His name floated through her mind and she wondered.

  Chapter 5

  “He is nurtured by a pounce and a parcel”

  Five years later Warren looked much different. The blue antidote Morris had given him had kicked his normal development into high gear and his body seemed to be making up for lost time. He was eye level with Edgar and already looked down on Morris. And his growth showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. It was plain to any who saw him he would easily top out at over six feet. His curls had grown a darker tinge but were no less unruly, no matter what anyone tried to do with them. He still was rakishly thin and lean looking despite Morris’ culinary talents.

  Morris looked much the same as ever. The years always seemed to rest lightly on her form. The only way anyone knew she wasn’t in her early twenties was to look deep into her sparkling, green eyes. There was a maturity there no person aged a scant two decades could possess.

  Edgar was just beginning to show her age. She had developed gray wings at her temples and wore spectacles most of the time now. But her eyes were still sharp and rarely missed a trick.

  The women had become Warren’s parents.

  This morning it was Warren who toi
led at the stove when Morris arrived home from her nightly shift at the clinic. He already had a neat stack of pancakes and links of sausage prepared when the two women joined him. He set the plates in front of them.

  Edgar nodded her thanks and prepared her tea while Morris patted his shoulder as she inspected his work.

  “I might have ta retire as cook of tha household if this keeps up,” she commented, pleased at how the meal Warren made had turned out.

  “We’re just about out of tea and other things,” Warren told them as he joined them at the table.

  Morris nodded. “I’ll go ta the silent swap later today and restock,” she told them.

  At this Warren suddenly dropped his fork. “No, don’t do that!” he said.

  Startled, both women looked up. There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “She knows,” Edgar said. “She’ll be careful.”

  “I’m always careful!” assured Morris with a laugh.

  “But… it’s dangerous!” Warren insisted. “You could get hurt!”

  Edgar wrinkled her brows. “It’s always been dangerous,” she replied. “And Morris is well aware how the government has been cracking down on swaps for the poor. She knows how to avoid trouble.”

  Warren shook his head. “Not this time. This time it’s different.” He turned to Morris. “Don’t go. There’s a man there, a bad man. He’s been watching you every time. This time he means to arrest you for practicing medicine without a license. And then he means to do bad things to you. Don’t go! Please!”

  Edgar put down her fork and teacup. “Warren, how do you know this?”

  Warren frantically looked from Morris to Edgar and back again.

  “Just don’t go,” he pleaded.

  “Warren!” Edgar said loudly and her voice took on an authoritative tone. “How do you know this?”

  Again Warren looked from Morris to Edgar and back. He bit his lip and then gave in.

  “I saw his thoughts,” he said.

  The women just stared at the adolescent boy for a long moment.

  Then an incredulous smile broke over Morris’ face. “I knew it!” she crowed with glee. And then she turned to Edgar and demanded, “I win! Pay me!”

  But Edgar completely ignored her. “You… saw what he was thinking…” she said softly.

  Warren nodded.

  “When? Where were you when you saw this? Standing right next to him?”

  Warren shook his head. “I got a flash this morning when I first got out of bed. And then I saw what he wanted to do to you after he had you in custody. It wasn’t very nice.”

  “Pfft!” Morris scoffed. “Just let ’im try! I’ll claw ’is eyes oot!”

  “That’s just what he wants you to do,” Warren said. “He thinks it would be more fun that way.”

  “Stop it! Both of you!” Edgar ordered.

  She sighed and turned back to the boy. “How long have you been able to do this?”

  Warren waggled his head. “Some time now. It’s been growing within me every since Morris gave me the antidote. I can hear anyone and everyone. I can hear every line of thought from every person in a crowded bar although it tends to give me a nosebleed if I concentrate on just one train of thought.”

  He swallowed, took a deep breath and kept going. “When I relax, like when I’m sleeping, I get all of it again. That’s how I found out about the man who plans on hurting you. He thought your name and I heard it. So I listened.”

  Edgar’s frown deepened and she shook her head. “And you kept all of this a secret?”

  Warren gave her an apologetic look. “Well… yes. Wouldn’t you?”

  His reply took her aback for a moment. But she quickly recovered.

  “Warren, who taught you to read?” The question didn’t seem to be related to the topic at hand but the boy knew better.

  He smiled. “Professor, I could always read. I remember reading through my mother’s eyes when she was pregnant with me.”

  Edgar gave a wry smile. “I thought so!” she muttered. “I thought your reading skill was a bit advanced for an orphan waif educated at Miss Madeline’s.”

  Edgar laughed a bit and nodded. “So you’ve always been able to do this, eh?”

  Warren’s only reply was to smile.

  Morris smiled, too. “It all makes sense now. I tink I know why they were drugging ya. They were trying to either suppress or control your psychic ability.”

  He nodded.

  “Warren, do you know what is going on at Miss Madeline’s right now?” Edgar asked.

  He frowned and shook his head. “Certain places are blocked to me. I don’t know how. Miss Madeline’s is one. Any government headquarters is another. I can’t get in and I don’t know why.”

  Edgar’s face grew dark. “You tried to get into the government? Boy, that was reckless! Never try that again!”

  “Aye,” agreed Morris. “Someone mighta ’ave been listening back.”

  Warren’s face grew fearful. “But… I thought I was the only one.”

  Morris and Edgar exchanged worried looks.

  Morris said softly, “We dinna know if any survived the purge.”

  Warren’s expression was confused. “What… purge?”

  Morris and Edgar gave each other the same look.

  “We’re already ’ead first down tha rabbit hole. Best ’e finds out from us tha’ anyone else,” Morris told her.

  Edgar sighed, removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, a brief history lesson. There used to be a lot of psychics on Castor 5,” she explained. “People thought breathing the fog gave certain people mental powers of clairvoyance. Anyway, the government felt threatened by them so it initiated the Psychic Purge, a systematic cleansing. Any person with abilities like yours was either publicly executed or they were never seen again.”

  Warren’s face went pale.

  “Remember what I said about people’s secrets protecting them?” she told him and he nodded. “Well, it’s against the law to be a psychic here. If they know you can do these things…”

  “They’ll kill me?” he finished for her.

  Edgar nodded grimly. “And I’ve gotten far too fond of you, my boy, to let that happen,” she told him with a small but determined smile. “You must be very careful, Warren. Please do not let anyone else know you can do this.”

  Morris shook her head and frowned. “Be tha as it may, we still need supplies. We canna go without tea. And food, for tha’ matter.”

  “I’ll go instead,” Warren offered.

  “No!” both of the women said at once.

  “You haven’t got the streets smarts,” insisted Edgar vehemently.

  “An’ none of tha saavy,” sniffed Morris. “They’d see ya coming a mile off an’ start to drool at all tha’ fresh meat!”

  Warren frowned. “Be that as it may, we still need supplies. We can’t eat books.”

  “An’ I needs me tea, sweetie,” whimpered Morris like a petulant child.

  “You’re not leaving me behind! Miss Madeline might come back! Her or her cronies,” Warren insisted.

  No one from the orphanage had ever darkened their door again but that hadn’t stopped Warren from being constantly scared. If he was left alone in the building, he hid. He had several hiding places all over the store, from the basement to the attic.

  “Fine!” Edgar fumed. “We’ll all go! You buy the food. Warren will mentally scan the crowd and I will be guard dog over both of you. That way, hopefully, we can all stay out of danger. Satisfied?”

  This seemed to meet with everyone’s approval.

  * * *

  Later that day, after Morris had her cat nap to recover from her night shift, they headed out. Edgar had purchased a horseless carriage some years earlier. It was infrequently used for local jaunts around town. It really did look like an old Hansom cab but with three wheels instead of two, it was completely enclosed to keep out the fog and was voice controlled. Edgar flipped the Closed sign at the
front of the shop, and turned the lock.

  They donned their personal gas masks. Edgar’s mask was pretty utilitarian. Fashioned out of plain, black leather it had a few brass studs for some attempt at decoration. Morris’ was painted green and white with a four-leaf clover stamped onto obvious places with a small, orange, tabby cat figurine dangling from a beaded, gold chain off the left side. Warren’s mask was decorated in Greek and Roman trim since he had a fascination with Mediterranean mythology.

  Thus fortified against the weather, they climbed into their carriage. The inside was a bit cozy for three but they managed. Warren was dressed in a slouch cap, a white shirt, suspenders, synthetic wool trousers and leather shoes. Edgar looked ready to hop on a horse, if there had been any horses on Castor 5. She had a lady’s top hat with netting, a white shirt with a black blazer over top, riding tights and tall black boots. Morris was dressed very feminine with a tiny top hat perched to the side, a lime green and black brocade dress with many ruffles that was cut high in front to reveal her shapely, black stockings from her knees on down, and low on the backside where it had a proper bustle and long, cobble-sweeping skirts.

  Their attire hid the fact all three were armed to the teeth. Morris sported a small gun in one of her garter belts, a knife in the other and a larger pistol down her ample bosom. Even her hand fan was armed. Edgar had a knife tucked into each boot, a gun harness underneath her blazer and the cane hooked casually on her arm hid a sword blade inside. Warren, they trusted with just a knife.

  Edgar settled herself in the driver’s seat and removed her mask as did the others. Most vehicles had rudimentary air filtration systems built into the engines.

  “Ruffian Street, 221 Hostler’s Hovel,” she spoke into the cone-shaped microphone.

  With a hiss and a shudder, the steam engine on the carriage coughed to life.

  “We’re nae goin’ ta tha Gardner’s Barracks?” Morris asked.

  Edgar shook her head. “Not directly,” she replied. “I need to make a slight detour first.”

  “Whatever fer?” her red-haired partner inquired.

  Edgar looked at Warren and smiled. “I need to purchase some information.”