Deep Beneath: A Psychic Vision Novel

by Dale Mayer

  “I’ll get some bandages and something to clean it with,” Samson said. He headed into his lab.

  He kept a decent medical kit in there, always worrying something major would happen on the island, and then they would need the helicopter to airlift someone out. He hoped that wasn’t the case now, but Jerry needed to improve and fast.

  As he returned with the first aid kit, he saw Bruce and Whimsy bent over the young man, looking at his head wound. Almost instantly, jealousy rippled through him. Bruce was a good friend, but he wasn’t that good. Samson didn’t want him any closer to Whimsy than he had to be. As far as Samson was concerned, she was part of his place, and that meant part of his life. Bruce was just a visitor, and he needed to remember that.

  “Both of you move back,” Samson said in a hoarse voice. He dropped down beside the kid and gently pulled back his hair. He frowned. “This definitely needs stitches. I just don’t know if there’s any more damage on the inside.”

  “We can get a helicopter to take him out,” Whimsy said from his side. She reached over and pulled the hair back so she could take a closer look at the wound. “It doesn’t look too deep though. I wonder if it was more of a blow, and there just happened to be a sharp corner on the object that maybe caught him on a slice, as if somebody used a downward swing.”

  He sat back on his haunches and looked at her, but her words alone evoked an image of a man reaching up with two hands and plowing a rock down, slicing as it went.

  “There’s no helicopter until the weather improves. Let’s put in a couple stitches while he’s out cold. Then we’ll keep an eye on him.”

  And that was what they did. Samson cut Jerry’s hair back, cleaned the wound, put in a couple stitches and topped it off with some antibiotic ointment. Now to wait. … For the two strangers to appear.

  Chapter 23

  It seemed all Whimsy did these days was make tea. She kept a wary eye on Jerry, who was still wrapped up and unconscious in front of the hearth. The color was coming back into his cheeks, so that was a positive sign. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him awake, letting them all know he was at least cognizant and healing. She half expected Samson to give Jerry a shake to check on his condition, but they all seemed content to watch and to wait. Surely Bruce wanted his friend and assistant to get the medical attention he needed.

  “It’s not too late to call for a helicopter,” she said.

  “It was too late a long time ago,” Samson said in a noncommittal voice. “They can’t fly in this weather. You know that.”

  Shit. She’d been so focused on the patient that she hadn’t considered how limited helicopters were for flights in rough weather. She glanced at her watch. “Did you ever hear from Ned?”

  “No,” Samson said, “and that is an issue too.”

  “I was hoping, if he was on his way, which he probably shouldn’t be in this weather, he could take the kid back.”

  “You’re still talking about hours of a rough round trip,” Samson said.

  She looked at Bruce. “Any ideas?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Until that weather abates, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “That’s really frustrating,” Whimsy stated.

  “This kind of living isn’t for everybody,” Bruce said. “It’s part of the hits and misses of life here. Medical attention is available, but you have to get to it. And that’s always a challenge.”

  Just then the front door opened, and Jamie stepped inside. Whimsy stared at him, finding him soaked but otherwise he seemed healthy.

  “There you are,” Samson said. “Where have you been?”

  “Walking,” Jamie said cheerfully, although his smile fell away at the sight of Bruce. He walked into the living room and then froze as he caught sight of Jerry on the floor. “What the hell?”

  “Hey, young’un,” Bruce drawled, guaranteed to set off Jamie.

  But Jamie obviously chose to ignore Bruce because, even with that greeting, Jamie was focused on Jerry. He crouched down beside him. “I saw him. He was just outside the house a while ago.”

  “Which means, you were watching the house,” Samson said. “And you didn’t come in to let us know you were okay?”

  “I came in to see what all the fuss was about. I saw you helping somebody in, but I didn’t know what the deal was.”

  “He almost drowned,” Whimsy said. “We think he might have fallen off the rocks and into the water.”

  “Well then, he shouldn’t have been on the rocks, should he?” Jamie said. He glanced at Bruce. “But then again, Bruce likes to drown his assistants.” And, on that note, he turned and walked into his bedroom.

  An ugly silence filled the air. Samson sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry, Bruce.”

  “I should be used to it by now, shouldn’t I?” Bruce said, rolling his neck, as if to ease tension long held between his shoulder blades.

  Whimsy wanted to hear the story behind that episode, but, at the same time, she wasn’t about to bring up such an obviously painful memory. She had had enough of those.

  But then, with a shrug, Bruce volunteered the information to Whimsy. “A long time ago, one of my assistants committed suicide. He had attached a rope to his waist and jumped into the water. I was sound asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he’d left a note behind, saying he would rather be fish food. Yet, at the end of the day, he didn’t want people forever wondering what happened to him, so he tied himself to the boat and drowned.”

  “I think that would be very hard to do,” Whimsy said “Surely the survival instinct would kick in, and he’d just pull himself in?”

  “He could have, but he had weights on his feet. He was floating about ten feet under the surface.”

  She winced. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”

  “It is,” Bruce said. “Even worse when you get spoiled brats who don’t know when to quit focusing on the event.” He rose to his feet and paced the room. “I hate to ask, but any chance you’ve got some lunch leftovers?”

  Samson hopped to his feet. “I was going to put on a stew today. But it’s been a little busy.” He walked into the kitchen and pulled out ground pork from the fridge. “Maybe I’ll do a pasta dish instead.”

  “Can I help?” Whimsy asked quietly.

  He nodded and gave her some garlic and onions to dice.

  She prepped those and watched as he made a simmering spaghetti sauce.

  He put a pot of water on for the pasta, then turned back to Bruce. “I don’t see any signs of the weather abating. What do you want to do?”

  Bruce didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Can we crash here?”

  “Of course you can,” Samson said. “You’re always welcome. You know that.”

  As she had slept in the loft last night, she wasn’t sure if she should offer that space to the two men.

  Bruce added, “If you have a couple blankets, I’ll sleep here beside Jerry and keep watch on him overnight.”

  “That works,” Samson said.

  While Whimsy watched as the sauce simmered and the pasta water boiled on the stove, Samson headed into the lab and returned shortly, laden with several large blankets and a couple pillows. He dropped them in the corner of the main room. “Whenever you’re ready for bed.”

  “Not until this food gets done,” Bruce said. “I’m definitely on the tired side. Nothing like the adrenaline rush of watching one of your assistants get hurt to exhaust you. But I need sustenance too.”

  Only a few minutes later they had a meal on the table, hot and ready to eat. Whimsy walked to Jamie’s room, knocked and opened the door. He was lying on the bed, a weird look on his face.

  She approached quietly. “Jamie, do you want some dinner?”

  His head rolled ever-so-slightly toward her. He was in one of his funky-zone places.

  “An answer would be helpful,” she said. “You’ve been out a long time today. I imagine you need food.”

  “I need food,” he said, “but the universe needs me. It’s in
sad shape. Animals going extinct, water rising, volcanoes rumbling. I don’t have time to eat.”

  “Maybe the universe does,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean the people on earth don’t need you too. Like your brother. Why did you take off today?”

  “To commune with nature,” he said simply. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be caught in this physical body.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said, “because it’s not about caught for me. This is my existence. This is where I am.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “And, when I’m in the physical body, I just crave escape.”

  “Maybe you could set yourself some meditation times,” she said. “Like for an hour or so when you wake up and then several hours in the afternoon and again in the evening.”

  “I can’t just set a schedule and follow it,” he said, shocked.

  “Why not? Not only that, but why don’t you arrange to do this while you’re sleeping?”

  “I do,” he said. “I’m never in my body when I’m asleep. My body needs that rest time, right?”

  “That make sense,” she said hoping he’d talk to her more. “However, that’s a lot of your day doing something constructive on the other side.”

  “The other side,” he said with a smile as if fully awakening. “That’s quite true. I do like the sound of that. And I am doing constructive work even if you don’t understand it all. I need to smooth the dark energy and help match it up with light energy again. It helps the earth rest in a calm manner, instead of the disasters that keep happening. Only my work won’t ever be done at this rate.” He took a moment to assess something then nodded, “But you’re right. My body is weakening. Okay, food it is.” He sat up and swung his legs off the side of his bed.

  “You need to be nice to Bruce while you’re out there, okay?”

  He wrinkled up his face. “You sound like my father.”

  “Somebody needs to remind you of your manners,” she said. “You don’t want to make this any harder on Samson than you have to.”

  “I never want to hurt Samson,” Jamie said. “Without Samson, I can’t survive.”

  “So why do you poke his friends and make everything uncomfortable?”

  “Because Bruce killed his assistant,” he said. “There was no suicide about it.”

  A chill settled inside her heart. “And how do you know that?”

  “I saw it,” he said. “When I was out of my body, I watched it happen.”

  “And you couldn’t do anything to help him?” Horror at what he must have felt swept through her. “Did you call the police?”

  “No, of course not,” he said. “I didn’t have a body. How am I supposed to do anything?”

  “When Stefan doesn’t have a body, he manages to communicate. Have you ever tried that?” she couldn’t imagine him not doing anything.

  “Think about my medical records. No one would believe me. Besides I did try,” Jamie said defiantly. “I tried to stop Bruce. But he acted like I was a mosquito pissing him off. I don’t think he saw me, but he must have felt more of a sensation which he couldn’t quite dodge. I’d like to think I was acting as his guilty conscience, but even that’s too simple an explanation.”

  “Of course it is,” she said with a smile. “However, such is this life you lead. Come on. Let’s get some dinner.”

  Jamie stood, looped his arm around her shoulders. “You’re one of those really nice people, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. And, as such, I’ve made a few enemies along my way.”

  He chuckled. “How can anybody get mad or angry at a butterfly? You’re one of those who sees the good in everyone, doesn’t try to hurt anyone, and goes out of your way to keep things nice and polite.”

  “Is there anything wrong with that?” she challenged him, not sure if he was dissing her or just commenting. She didn’t know what to make of him.

  His chuckle turned to laughter. “Nope. We need people like you. Just like the world needs people like me.”

  “Why would anybody need people like you?” Bruce asked caustically as they walked into the kitchen.

  Jamie stiffened.

  Whimsy stepped in between the two of them. “Considering you’re both at Samson’s dinner table, you’ll both behave yourselves. The first one who has anything untoward or negative to say about anything can leave. There’s always the porch out front. You can sit out there and wait until the meal is over,” she said calmly.

  Both angry men turned and stared at her. Samson howled with laughter.

  Bruce looked at Samson, then at her. “Wow. Got yourself a live one, didn’t you?”

  “Better than a dead one,” Whimsy said smoothly. “Now take your seat please.” She waited until the men sat down, helping Samson serve. He was still chuckling. “It’s not that funny.”

  “Oh, hell yes, it was.” Impulsively he leaned down and kissed her on the temple. “Thank you, by the way.”

  “Thank me for what?” she asked in confusion.

  “For caring.”

  *

  This heated discussion brought up something that was bugging the hell out of Samson. “So where are the other two men Jerry said he saw?”

  “You’ll likely find more bodies floating in the water in the coming days,” Bruce said. “Good riddance to them.”

  Samson wasn’t surprised at Bruce’s hard attitude. A lot of mariners held no truck for interfering busybody trespassers. Samson had no clue who these men were or what they were after. “Were they climbing up the same side as where that platform was?”

  “What platform?” Jamie said.

  “The one we found that’s dealing with electrical currents,” Whimsy said. “Although I’m not sure what or how.”

  Jamie frowned but then turned his head in the direction where the platform was.

  She nodded. “Did you see it?”

  Jamie just shrugged.

  Bruce never answered Samson’s question.

  Samson wasn’t sure if Bruce was being evasive, not willing to discuss things in front of Jamie, or if Bruce hadn’t seen the two strangers. Maybe only Jerry did. Samson didn’t bring up the question again. But also, why was Jamie being so quiet. There was something going on he didn’t understand and he didn’t like it. He wished he could talk to him telepathically, but outside of the one time, nothing he did worked.

  Whimsy, on the other hand, fascinated him. She was also a great houseguest. Samson watched her, wondering at the unique spirit she was. As soon as she was done, she got up, washed her dishes and stacked them in the rack. She checked on the patient, but he was still unconscious. “How long do we leave him like this?” she asked.

  “All night,” Bruce said. “It’s not like we have any choice. We can’t get him to help.”

  “What about your boat?” she asked. “Can’t you cross to the mainland?”

  “I’m not taking my boat in the open seas in this weather,” Bruce said with a hard shake of his head. “That’ll just end up with two of us dead.”

  She pursed her lips and looked at Samson. “Of course your boat is already on the mainland.”

  “Yep,” he said. “There’s no help for it. Jerry will either survive, … or he won’t.”

  He dropped his voice to a much gentler tone when he added the last two words, but she still didn’t like it. “Meaning, if he makes it through the night, hopefully the storm will let up then, and we might get him out of here to seek better medical attention.”

  “That would be the preferred scenario, yes.” Bruce sat down beside Jerry. “Hey, buddy. You’re warm. You’re inside, and you’re safe. Do what you need to do to heal.” And then he settled back, looking to Samson. “I brought a bottle of whiskey not too long ago one time I was here. You got any left?”

  Samson gave a snort. “So not likely. That was about six months ago.”

  “Damn. Looks like it’ll be a long night then.”

  Chapter 24

  Whimsy let the two men joke back and forth until fina
lly Samson brought out a bottle. The dogs had gone outside a while ago. She had cleaned up everybody’s dishes, washed and stacked them in the rack, and then sat down beside Jamie. He was eating, but very, very slowly. She watched his actions, wondering what was going on. “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s good,” he said, “but something is very wrong here.”

  “In the world in general, something’s always very wrong,” she whispered back. “But here, something’s very, very, very wrong.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “But one thing is very right. That thing is, you’re here. Whatever is going on, you’re part of this.”

  She shrugged but couldn’t help feeling pleased by his words. “So far I’m not part of anything, except one more of those walking wounded Samson seems to collect.”

  “I don’t think he collects them as much as they are attracted to him. He fixes their problems, and he releases them back into the wild.”

  “Well, this wounded bird came back again,” she said with a chuckle.

  “That’s because she belongs here,” he said. “Not exactly sure how yet.” He glanced at her shoulder. “You were shot, huh?”

  She winced, hurriedly checking where Bruce was, seeing if he could hear their conversation, not wanting to get into explanations. She was relieved to see him talking with Samson. She nodded. “Yes.”

  Jamie said, “I get a really weird buzz from your shoulder.”

  Instinctively she reached up a hand to cover it. In a low voice she said, “Samson removed the bullet. You’re likely still getting a buzz from the energy of where it had been.” She didn’t want to mention a tracking device but neither did she want to consider a piece of either the bullet or tracking device had been left inside.

  Jamie’s gaze zeroed in on her shoulder, as if seeing it suddenly. “I can still feel the energy of the bullet left behind.”

  “Presumably because it hasn’t fully healed.” She shifted so he had something else to look at. “If you work at healing the world, feel free to send some healing energy to my shoulder.”

  “Maybe next time I’m off in the ethers.” He got up, gave her a lopsided grin and said. “I’m out.” And he headed to his room. She watched him close the door, then got up and cleaned up his plate. She should have made him do it.