by Lucian Bane
Charlie was a little stumped. “You don’t believe him?”
“He doesn’t seem to be lying.”
“But… you’re not sure?”
“I really can’t be sure, can I? I can feel he’s telling the truth and he says he’s telling the truth, but…” he shrugged with wide eyes. “How can we really be sure? Maybe I’m just losing my mind, maybe I’ve already lost it.”
“Can you ask…if he minds talking to me?” He wanted to be sure this was real.
His dad stared into his lap, head barely shaking. He lifted a different smile at him. “Yes, Charlie. I’ll talk to you.”
His insides literally jumped at hearing his tone change. The tenor was a little softer than his dad’s voice and his expression almost…serene.
“Were you… murdered, Mr. Frank?” The die-hard manners may have been strange to use but he didn’t feel right just calling him Frank.
His smile slowly disappeared, making Charlie’s pulse hammer in his temples. “What do you think, Charlie?”
“What do you mean what does he think? How would he know?”
The sudden anger in his voice indicated his dad had spoken.
“He’s gifted,” he seemed to remember, eying Charlie. “He has an unusual color I’ve not seen before. And his words taste like…” His brows furrowed mildly. “Something I’ve never eaten.”
Charlie’s stomach turned over at his odd form of observation. He prayed to know what was true about him. He remembered he’d asked what he thought about him being murdered. “I think I don’t know.”
He seemed to see something. “You don’t know about your gift,” he mused.
“I think you were murdered and weren’t,” Charlie said, not wanting to talk about himself. “Something happened to make you kill yourself. That’s the same as murder.”
His smile indicated Charlie proved him right. “Gifted. You’re absolutely correct. What else do you know?”
“Alice and I—”
“Alice,” he said, his smile growing a little. “Another gifted one. Did she get the clues?”
“Yes, we did.”
“I remember there were clues for both of you.” He seemed happy that he had or happy that he remembered.
Charlie jumped to the obvious question at that. “How do you know us?”
He seemed to be trying to see into Charlie’s brain. “I’m not a robot. I’m not a clone. I’m just a gifted man.”
Charlie leaned the shotgun against the wall behind him, realizing he didn’t really need it. He decided to sit on the floor while wondering why he evaded his question. “Do you not remember how you know us?”
“Not…all the way.”
His eyes rolled, indicating his dad didn’t agree or buy it.
“Are you a psychopath, Mr. Frank?” Charlie wanted to know how he saw himself.
The warmth in the man’s gaze was almost real, something Charlie felt. “No, Charlie,” he said, the heat also in his words.
“Bullshit.”
Charlie jumped at the sudden bark out of the same mouth.
“You killed tons of people, I saw it with my own eyes. I felt it. I re-lived it!”
“You did relive it,” he said, sounding amazed as he seemed to focus hard on something inside himself for several seconds. “I remember now.” He turned a relieved smile on Charlie. “Your dad had a sharp color that I knew might be a problem if our gifts mixed.”
“Which gifts?” Clearly, Frank had many.
“I have gifts that let me learn things.”
“He’s got a super brain, and everybody wants to steal it,” his dad said, dryly.
The annoyance on his face broke with an excited smile. “I remember what they called it. Absolute Synesthete Savant.”
****
“A what?” Ben blurted, reaching another level of astonishment with Frank.
The second he asked, Ben felt the bubbling sensation spinning in his stomach again. It seemed to happen when Frank got excited, but to Ben it felt like that moment at the top of the roller-coaster as you descended. “So, some people perceive things through different sensory,” Frank began, as the spinning sensation grew with his words. “They might taste things they see, or hear things when they feel, smell things they look at. You could see yellow when somebody says Thursday, or taste copper when you look at a horse, or a violin might cause a tickle under your tongue…” he took a breath. “…and then some people’s names have smells or tastes, good and bad, and some people don’t have to think about it, this stuff just happens like a reflex, and some actually see outside their mind what others only see inside. Like me.” The bubbling whirlwind slowly settled back down as he continued rocking a little. “I can see things outside my mind.”
“Wow,” Charlie said while Ben fought to stop his mind from spinning. “What all can you do?”
The bubbling started again, and Ben begged, “Stop!”
“What?” Frank and Charlie asked, both confused.
“I’m getting dizzy.”
“You are,” Frank said, seeming to see it or realize it or whatever the hell he did with his brain. He looked at Charlie. “He gets dizzy with my gifts and I get dizzy with his. I know now.”
“Know what?” Charlie asked, while Ben wondered too.
“I know why he’s behaving like he does.”
“How am I behaving?” Ben had to know.
“You’re experiencing bad things.” He looked at Charlie again. “Ben got my head. They put him in my head and that means he was plugged into my brain.”
“Your brain was supposed to be wiped,” Ben said. “Along with your memories.”
“Right,” he said softly, again seeming to remember. “That’s why it had to be locked. So they couldn’t take it. Locked up real tight.” He gave a light laugh, refocusing on Charlie. “See, Ben was put inside my mind and I can know things I touch.” Ben felt their insides growing colder until a shiver ran through him. “I touched a lot of things, I know a lot of things. Bad things. His gift to feel things got loaded into my brain and his gifts are now like my gifts—absolute and perfect. Your dad now has absolute ability to feel what other people feel.”
“You mean…empathy or compassion.”
Frank rocked their body and nodded a lot. “He can feel people, he’s very good at feeling all the things people feel.”
“Calm down,” Ben barely begged, getting nauseous with the tilt-a-whirling Frank’s revelations brought.
“Are you saying…he was experiencing the things you came to know? The bad things?” Charlie wondered.
More nods. “He feels the bad things people felt. The good things too. He felt the things I touched, the things I know. I’m not a killer, Charlie. I never kill,” he said shaking his head now.
“If you’re not a killer then who was killing?” Ben fought to breathe through his sickness.
“It was them,” he said, with calm accusation, rocking a little. “The ones I’m hiding from. They’re bad people. I know what they did.”
“Dad, I think he’s telling the truth,” Charlie said.
Ben tried to lay his head back and close his eyes and ran into Frank’s need to sit there like a rocking robot. Everything in him was buzzing and strange but there was no denying what he felt. That Frank believed everything he said which made it true. At least to him.
“I don’t remember some of the things I can do,” he mumbled, wanting to rock again. Ben didn’t fight him. He was exhausted. He wanted to find a nice white straight jacket to crawl into. This all meant one very bad thing. Frank was a lot sicker than he first imagined. He didn’t know where the psycho Frank had gone, but this Frank here was one tick shy a tock and who knew what would happen to them when he came into his ‘full memories'.
“So…you said you can feel compassion and empathy because my dad has it? Did you not experience that before, Mr. Frank?”
The Mr. Frank title produced mini orgasms in his ears as Charlie’s curiosity seemed to rival Frank’s giddy
joy.
“My family loved in the capacity that they could. I understood that. I always have. I also knew there was such a love between a man and a woman. Just like I know there’s a moon.” Something cold pierced the tip of his cock, making it jump while Frank lit up with child-like wonder. “Everybody dreams of experiencing the moon, right, Charlie?”
“I used to want to be an astronaut.”
Ben felt like half the things Frank said felt…scripted. One moment he sounded educated, the next like he was a challenged teenager.
“And why didn’t you?” Frank wondered in that teenage excitement.
Charlie considered for a moment, no doubt wanting to be honest. This, Ben knew about his son. “I guess as I realized what was required, it just seemed…”
“So far away?” Frank wondered. “Or why long for the moon when the planet at your toes is filled with countless treasures waiting to be discovered?”
Another adult sounding script.
“So…you wanted to experience love, but when you understood what was needed, you realized you didn’t have the ability to get there?”
The burst of light in their mind came with happy laughter. “What a beautiful gift you have, Charlie. A lot like your dad.” Do you see it, Ben? His colors? “What are you thinking?” Frank had to know, sounding fascinated. “Your colors have gone so brilliant.”
Charlie’s face lowered, but not before they caught the tears in his eyes. “I was just thinking… how God saw fit to bring the moon to you.”
The avalanche came from someplace deep inside and startled Ben. “Oh, Charlie.” Frank whispered, calling more of it forth, commanded it to come. Before he could stop it, Frank was sobbing uncontrollably.
Ben fought to shut it off, but then Frank kept knocking him off his feet with another wave of whatever had him. It happened faster than Ben could stop it. Frank! Frank, stop!
“Mr. Frank! Dad!”
Charlie’s yell broke the wall closing in around them, then came nothing but black.
His Alice In Wonderland
Charlie knelt next to his dad’s bed and prayed for him and Mr. Frank. He’d told him the words God told him to say, about the moon, and it seemed like it gave him a seizure. But he was okay. His vitals were fine, Mr. Haiku said, and he was in a deep sleep.
His uncle helped move him to his bed after Charlie convinced him it was safe. He told them everything he’d learned about Frank, and his mom and Alice believed him too, especially Alice. It made more sense to her since she knew exactly how intelligent he had to be to do everything he’d done.
All the why’s were still there, but at least his dad wasn’t a psychopath. And Frank was…was so much different than he’d ever imagined. It was like watching a miracle in slow motion. Everything Frank said, Charlie knew was true. Maybe not right, but true. Only not right because Frank wasn’t sure about his memories. The other thing he knew without a doubt about Frank was he was good. Not a psycho. And nothing could have made Charlie happier. He’d been so overjoyed when he race-confessed everything to Alice and his mom that he broke down and cried.
Now, with all quiet, Charlie and Alice sat in his room writing down everything he’d learned so far. They’d need to ask questions and not lose sight of the answers they already had. Because another thing Charlie knew was that something big was coming. Something big that was evil. And he believed that God helped him and Alice wake up Frank to help them stop it.
Now, Charlie and Alice needed to help Frank do what it was he needed to do. He had things to remember. Would there be more clues he left for himself maybe?
“There’s still something bothering me about dad’s behavior,” he said to Alice as he paced next to the bed. She paused her typing and listened. “He’s just…he’s still…I don’t know what to call it. Emotionally stressed out, maybe. Aggressive. He used to be so gentle.”
“You mentioned Frank saying he was experiencing the bad things he had in his head. Do you remember when he started showing symptoms?”
Charlie paused and closed his eyes, clasping both hands behind his head as he went back to the moment his dad woke from the coma sleep. He was very different then, but not aggressive. Not until… “The dreams,” Charlie realized, his eyes popping open, turning to Alice. “He seemed to spiral before our eyes after that first nightmare.”
“So maybe when he encountered that part of Frank’s subconscious, it brought out his empathy and compassion.”
“But it also brought out…bad stuff. Stuff that wasn’t empathetic and compassionate.”
She seemed to consider, doing her lip scrunching. She snapped her head down and typed on the laptop.
“What are you thinking?” Charlie wondered, hopeful.
“I think I need to see what the definition of empathy is.” She popped the enter key with her pinky and leaned in. “Empathy. The ability to understand and share the feelings of another.”
The answer popped into his head with his whispered, “Holy shit. Do you think he’s understanding and feeling both the victim and the offender? That would explain what mom said to me.”
“What?” she wondered.
He stared at her, his heart breaking for his dad as he swallowed and looked down. “She said he’d have nightmares and draw them. And…it would arouse him, and… he’d want to act on the arousal while…” Charlie turned, hiding his face. “While he cried in the most tormented agony and remorse,” he strained hoarsely.
Alice’s arms wrapped around him suddenly, and he again had a mini-break-down, wondering if he’d ever get it all cried out of him. She pulled his hands from his face and kissed him. “Your dad is going to be okay, Charlie,” she whispered. “He’s just going to be Mr. Feely for a bit.”
“I think…Frank will help him,” he croaked, nodding. “He’ll help him.”
“He will, yes. I can’t wait to meet him,” she said, smiling.
Charlie kissed her forehead and kept his lips there for several seconds as he stroked her head. “Thank you, Alice.” His head hit her shoulder and he had another round of cleansing sobs.
Finally, he got his act together and he continued dictating. “Frank said he learned things by touch. His mind gave him information when he touched things. We need to ask how that works, what all does it show him.”
She suddenly gasped and he looked at her smiling face. “He is a real superhero! And he is your dad!”
He grinned at her, shaking his head while secretly loving her child-like thoughts and enthusiasm. “I wonder if what he touches has a connection to what he learns? Do certain shapes and colors bring certain kinds of information? Smell, taste?”
She typed away, nodding a lot. “What about his mom?” she asked, suddenly.
At seeing the sad look in her eyes, he knew what she thought. “I don’t know. It would be nice to give her something to make her feel better. Maybe when Frank wakes up, he’ll know what to do.”
“You’re supposed to tell her what his note meant!” she remembered with worry.
“Maybe we can find something to tell her that would make her feel better. Unless Frank remembers what he’s supposed to do. I’m sure he had to have some kind of plan to help her or protect her. We know these people that he knows are bad. We have the body to prove that, and Frank definitely had the knowledge of what they did, and that means they’ll still want to kill him if they find out he’s alive.”
“We need to know how he even did all this!” she said, typing that. “How did he find your dad, and my dad, and how did he make all this happen?” She was no longer typing but staring at him in shocked wonder.
“I know. It all sounds impossible. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned and believe with all that I am, it’s that with God…nothing is impossible.”
Her mouth dropped into an oval with her big eyes, like he’d performed a mind-blowing trick. “We should put that on bracelets!”
He had to laugh at how her mind worked and where it went. “You want to start a line of fashion-statem
ents with God?”
The gasp she gave said he’d just expanded her vision into world domination, and he laughed, closing the distance between them. He held her face in his hands, smiling down into her adorable face with the half-moon-eyed smile aimed at him. He slowly sobered. “I love you.” He stroked her face as joy soared through him that he found her, and she belonged to him. Her hands were at his pants and his lips parted with a gasp. He grabbed hold of them, then gradually released at the need and hunger in her eyes. He raised his hands to her face, gliding his thumb over her perfect lips. She opened her mouth and sucked it, turning his joy into a raging fire. She moved over his thumb like she did when she sucked his dick and the erotic feeling and sight had him needing more air than he could get. She pulled off and moved her lips all over his wet thumb, teaching him what she wanted him to know.
“You like that?” he whispered, pushing his thumb back in.
It was suddenly no longer a cute little game as she shoved his pants down and dropped to her knees. Her mouth reached the base of him in record time and his orgasm raged up. He wanted to grab her head and help her do it perfectly, faster, until he came, but he also wanted to watch her… make it last forever. That would require convincing her to slow down.
Her teeth scraped at his base and he grabbed her head in both hands, groaning with the pinching pleasure, holding her still. She remained unmoving except for her moans that felt like electric currents through his balls. Her moans turned delicate, like she wanted him to do something. He looked down, needing her to do something too. Moving her head along him, she gave a purr of satisfaction that had him gasping on desire. She wanted him to do that. He remembered their little talk about punishing and pleasure. And how she’d never done it but wanted to try.
The idea that he could give her that, be the first and only to explore that fantasy with her had him ready to orgasm again. How would he incorporate her idea of punishment into this dynamic? She liked him making her, that was obvious. And God, so did he. He moved her head back until her mouth was on the head, and forced her to suck there, letting his thick groans tell her how much he liked doing this. He recalled that first time on the roof when he put her hands above her head just to get them out of his way. She’d liked that too. But he had nowhere to put her hands in this position.
