ch. 5

It felt good to be out. Johnny had grown tired of the smell of death that filled the halls of the hospital. Johnny experimented with a new found sense of smell, the tar of the recently patched street, the tainting smell of disinfectant on his clothes. The breeze brought a faint smell of gasoline, a whiff of garbage and the cloying smell of earth. As he reveled in the story each scent seemed to tell, he passed a dumpster and promptly closed the book on the plot line emerging from it.

I've never felt so alive! Johnny thought. He was aware of ever sensation related to his body, the trickle of sweat inching down his back, the very feel of the clothes on his back, yet he did not feel overwhelmed. Like phasing out the drunken tirades of his uncle, he simply pushed everything back to a subconscious level but able to recall it at a moments notice.


Johnny had simply been walking, taking things in but he found his feet had led him to his old stomping grounds. Turning off the main road, he entered the grid like side streets filled with warehouses and metal shops. Corrugated steel and rust were the dominant architecture styling ques, from auto body shops to furniture stock buildings.


In the past, Johnny had made it a habit to double back, or loiter for a few moments at a corner to be sure he was followed or set up for an ambush, but tonight he felt a surge of confidence and relief. He ran through his mind all that he had seen in the past few minutes, every minute detail examined in surreal clarity mid step and he knew he was alone.


He approached the back lot of Alger's Body Shop, walking in the alley between the adjacent building and stopped at the coke machine that shed it's dim, yellow glow into the night. The light shined more brightly through the cracks in the plastic display, winking as he came closer. The whole machine seemed to glow with it's own life, drawing the eye to it's faded advertisements for soda's no longer in production but it eye catching antics were useful past it's designers intentions. Situated about a foot from the beginning of the chain link fence that enclosed the lot behind the shop, the vending machine blocked a small gap between the building and the fence. The gap could only be seen when directly in front of it, an odd angle with the alley dead ending into a cement block addition to the other building. With ease learned from repetition, Johnny squeezed through the gap and entered the lot, going to the back of the shop. He unlocked the door next to the large bay entry with a single key fished from his pocket. No longer jingling against the ignition and door key to his car, Johnny felt a pang of loss for his Camaro.

He entered a pitifully small room that had been converted from a bathroom to a tiny living space. The edge of the bed jutted against the side of the toilet, with a foot of space between the bed and the wall, a minnie fridge doubled as a nightstand in the far corner...well...as far as it could be. This had been Johnny's home for the past eighteen months.

When Johnny decided to satisfy his lust for speed by building his own car instead of stealing others, he began asking around fro someone with a shop who wasn't very scrupulous about where parts came from. He was told by some of his more shady business associates about a less shady associate, Dan Alger. When dealing with the less than honest, Johnny had found that a little research went a long way. His best resource came from the beginning of his journey to the dark side. During his first stay in Juvy Johnny had met Stephen Crump, the son of a successful lawyer much feared courts of downtown Houston. Both he and Stephen were the same age and sat next to each other while being processed at the detention center.

Once again, Johny was surprised by the clarity of his memories. The hard plastic chairs with their metal legs, screeching in protest at the slightest movement, scratched countless times with gang slogans, rival gang responses and empty promises of deviant sexual favors. The officers and secretaries eyes were as dull and bland as the walls that seemed to lean in to accentuate the fact that it was holding them all in. One could determine the length of time spent in the place by the emptiness of peoples eyes, the most vacant being those who slaved away scores of overtime to help bolster scanty paychecks. With all the redundancy built into the system, there was more than enough overtime to go around.

Johnny had picked Stephen out as a victim at first glance. His eyes flicked nervously around the room, careful to make no eye contact, but fearful of some unseen threat. Johnny recognized it, having been a victim most his life, never among his peers, always to his superiors. The ire of every adult in Johnny's life had been irked by his nonchalance and "lack of initiative despite promising abilities" as numerous report cards proclaimed throughout his child hood. No amount of cajoling, threatening or promises of rewards could inspire Johnny to apply himself, an untapped resource that was the bane of every educators existence. All of Johnny's mind was applied to finding the path of least resistance, never realizing the irony of working so hard to work less. In Stephen, Johnny saw the physical form of his emotional and mental position, immediately defensive on his behalf and unthinkingly protective over him.

Johnny took the seat next to Stephen, knowing that he himself was put in the cross hairs by doing so. Having been situated as far from his neighbor as possible while staying in his seat, Stephen now strove mightily to find the exact middle of his seat, trying desperately to remain invisible in the open room. (tbc. Johnny saves Stephen from a beating.)

Johnny and Stephen stayed in contact with each other in the years following Stephen's early release. It helps having a lawyer for a father, even if he was a prosecutor. Stephen Crump straightened out after his short stay in jail, more from his fear of his father's anger than any feared recrimination from the judicial system, and now worked for the city's leading District Attorney. Although he kept clean, Stephen still yearned for tastes of the lawless side of life, which was why he had followed his fathers footsteps into criminal law and why he often helped Johnny in his background checks, giving him information on anyone he wanted and in at depth that would make a private investigator drool...and all for free. It gave Stephen the thrill "living on the edge" and it had saved johnny from making unwise and potentially dangerous decisions on numerous occasions.

The information scraped together on Daniel Hubert Alger revealed a alleged, but yet to be proven, connection to small time racketeering business. While under some scrutiny from law enforcement, Alger's retained an honest facade and still had a clean record. This fit perfectly into Johnny's plans but made it a little more difficult to make the connection a reality. Johnny decided to run the safer, albeit longer, method and applied to work in Dan's shop. He was hired as a detailer and after his obvious skills were noticed, a mechanic. Dan, wary at first, warmed considerably after he learned a bit about Johnny's childhood. Dan's marriage was childless and Johnny became the son he didn't have. He gave Johnny a booth in the back to keep whatever he was driving and charged him a minuscule amount for the converted space behind the office. After almost a year of working at the shop, Dan approached Johnny and asked for his help in something, refusing to answer specifics until after work.

Johnny could hardly keep from laughing when Alger asked him to drive a truck full of washing machines to a small town a few hours away. They were obviously stolen, but with few ways to track them and no Appliance Theft Ring Task force in the works, it was a painfully low risk situation. Dan had guessed that Johnny was involved in some to degree in crime, but had no clue the extent. Johnny didn't bother to tell him that he had stolen cars with rims and tires worth more than the truck and it's cargo combined before he was fifteen, he just grinned and said, "Sure!"

After that and several other successful ventures involving Johnny, Alger began to trust Johnny with more and more. Johnny was naturally sharp and with his few, but valuable connections, he quickly became something of Dan Alger's protege. With a little planning, encouragement and youthful enthusiasm from Johnny, Dan more than doubled his under the table profits and halved the inquiries made by the police.

By the time Johnny had the wreck, Alger had all but handed over all the illegal activities done in his name to Johnny, while retaining well over three quarters of the the profit. Johnny didn't mind the obvious imbalance, his life was his cars. When he wasn't working on them, he was sleeping and dreaming about them and when he wasn't doing either, he was driving them. Johnny hadn't stolen a car in a year but practiced his prized and hard won skills on cars in the back lot of the Alger's body shop just to stay sharp. Things had been going good. Too good it would seem.

Now everything was different. Everything had changed, but Johnny was too tired to think. He promptly sprawled out on his little bed and fell instantly to sleep.

ch. 4

She stood on the peak of an immense, snow covered mountain, a sharp, cutting wind wept over the crags of rocks, whipping though her hair. Spanning across the horizon before her, the range of mountains continued forever, lined in perfectly straight rows, extending to the brightness of the setting sun. Finally, after what seemed unending turmoil, she had found peace.
High above her head a supernal bird was soaring, even more unfettered in its winged flight. Its distant cry was faint but piercing. Seemingly suspending on invisible strings, it began to drift towards her. The shriek of its call grew louder and she suddenly missed the quiet and as the bird drew closer, its voice grew louder. It had lost its serene, echoing melody and took on a more disturbing ring, sounding almost mechanical. Finally it swept by her head and a note fluttered from its beak. As the slip of paper settled into the palm of her outstretched hand, the bird let out an ear rending clang!
Jerked awake, Elaine rolled over in a confused daze. The bird… the note… the phone was ringing.
Stupid dreams.
“Detective Knowles speaking.”
“Wakey, wakey Knowles. Breakfast is ready,” cooed a purring man voice over the phone. Elaine eyed the crimson numbers blaring 3:14 AM on her bed stand.
“Real cute Stan, I hope you die.”
“Easy now pancake, I just might burn your toast on purpose and that just tastes awful, not to mention the smell.”
“You’re hilarious Stan, a real comedian. What gives?”
“Remember that single car accident on the 10 with ah…interesting circumstances?”
Elaine’s brain flew to full consciousness, “Yeah? Did we find any more information on him?”
“Nope, not that I know of anyway, but I guess you could ask him if you want.”
“No more jokes Officer Leary.”
“No joke Detective Knowles. He’s awake.” Impossible.
“Bull. He was a vegetable six hours ago, insides so busted up he had more wires coming out of him than the dash of your crappy little hot rod.”
“That’s the last straw; your toast is…toast.”
“Lieutenant!” there was a pause on the line.
“Well, the doctors current explanation is thus: he fixed himself.”
“What!?”
“Meet you there in twenty?”
Elaine slammed the phone down. He fixed himself? She was baffled beyond words and the case, curious already, became that much more interesting.
That the man had come out of the wreck in one piece at all was an amazing fact of itself. His vehicle, a suped up classic, had been traveling at a speed over two hundred miles per hour when he lost control. The force of impact had broken nearly all his ribs, puncturing his lungs and nearly severing an artery. Several discs in his spine have literally been pulverized. The trauma to his neck from the whiplash alone was enough to completely cripple the man. His high backed racing seat had saved his neck from being completely severed, but it had done nothing for his brain. The surgeons had stopped the bleeding with a new method of cauterizing, designed to stimulate the brain into an accelerated repair process. The surgery wasn’t mainstream yet, and still in the experimental stages, this particular one approved by the state. Some strings had been pulled in high up places to get the go ahead, but when it was given, the doctors were ecstatic. The main reason that this blatant manipulation of bureaucracy did not grate on Elaine’s nerves was the total lack of identification on the victim. Not only had the man been devoid of any proof of identity, but his car had been stripped of all the serial numbers. Every single piece of the car, down to the frame, was an assemblage of stolen parts.
When they ran his prints, Elaine actually laughed out loud. They found him in the system, but the specifics of his record was sealed because his offense was committed when hi was a minor. Because he had managed to stay clean until an adult, the Police Department needed Federal approval to open and view his file. Given the circumstances, she had no doubt it would be granted. When she reviewed the information they did have, she could not help but chuckle again. She had never seen someone so bland on paper.
Name: John (Johnny) Doe
Age: 24
Height: 6’0 ft
Weight: 195 pounds
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Hazel
Parents: Deceased
Siblings: Uknwn.
Distinguishing marks: Uknwn.
The head surgeon at the hospital had leaped at the opportunity to try the new cauterizing technique. After a long procedure, a CAT scan revealed that the desired stimulation had bee affected, but the man’s brain remained in a dormant state. The operation had been a success but to no avail, John Doe remained comatose, had remained comatose, but now he was awake and apparently talking. Elaine rolled over and stumbled around for he clothes. He fixed himself?
* * *
The glare of the fluorescent lights was especially harsh after the muted tones of the muggy Texas night. Detective Elaine Knowles’ slender five foot, four inch frame did nothing to reveal the sharp mind, tenacious will and intense focus contained therein. Despite the fact that she had been rudely awakened, she still managed to glide down the hallway with a natural grace, her pretty face better suited to in front of a camera cover than behind a badge and gun. Her hair was kept at shoulder length, but seemed to glow, as her face did, with health and exuberance. That’s why Detective Stan Leary was pretending not to stare, the latest victim in the department’s cycle of falling for Elaine. She of course wasn’t fazed or even aware of the effect she had on the station and nearly everyone she met. For beautiful people, attention is taken for granted. Stan was also a beautiful person, but he noticed when attention was diverted from him. When he transferred from San Diego, he noticed immediately that Elaine was the department “heart throb.” He of course was unaffected and vowed to stay that way. His vow stayed valiantly unbroken until he was assigned to her task force. Gossip ran rampant, predicting a sly, but well known affair to begin. Long hours of work and soap operas all combined into the wildest of possible scenarios. Stan’s natural flamboyant and assuming personality only encouraged the speculation, but as usual, Detective Knowles was too focused and busy to care. Stan was still pretending not to stare, a clip board the object of his most meticulous scrutiny.
“Did you find Waldo?” Elaine queried as she approached Stan.
“Huh?”
“That’s the only thing that I can think of that could so fully captivate your attention.”
“You’re mean when you lose beauty sleep.”
Elaine’s eyes narrowed, “Do you like your head where it is?” she snapped.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing it on a few Calvin Klein bill boards,” Stan quipped.
“Listen, you little smart a...”
“I’m rubber; you’re glue, bounces off of…”
“Oh shut up, Officer. Where the…”
“Third floor.”
They headed for the elevator. An innocent bystander would most likely misinterpret their encounter as immature and very unprofessional, but they had developed the routine the first day they were assigned together. An opening salvo of sarcasm and petty insults helped relieve the tension that had been immediately apparent, and they each could settle into a normal working relationship.
Elaine’s mind was still racing, searching desperately for an explanation. She racked her brain for some kind of medical precedent. She’d heard storied of miraculous recoveries in the face of impossible odds, but they were simply that, stories.
Stan still wasn’t staring.
The halls were empty and still, interrupted only by the hum of the machinery and squeak of their shoes on the linoleum. A young, but very stern looking doctor stood at the nurse’s station. His arms were crossed in such a way that he need only glance down at his watch to check the time, which he did as the two officers approached.
Already strained, the situation would have become comical if both Stan and the doctor’s simultaneous thoughts had been voiced.
That’s the prick I talked to on the phone.
Elaine spoke first, sensing the potentially explosive and entirely self defeating comments on each man’s tongue, “Where is the patient?”
The doctor jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the waiting room behind him, keeping what he considered a cold eye on Stan, “Watching television.”
“You let him out of his room?”
“What did you expect me to do? Physically restrain him?”
Stan was quick to intervene, though with a different effect entirely from Elaine’s, “Hell yes Doc! You should’ve taped him to his bedpan.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “Forget it!” Elaine said, walking around the doctor. Stan followed closely behind, using the opportunity of passing the doctor to roughly brush the doctor’s shoulder with his own. The doctor took a deep, calming breath before turning to follow, determined to be the better man. The three walked in to find Johnny sitting on the sofa in his hospital gown watching a report on the business done on Wall Street the day before. Johnny heard them coming but was too engrossed to recognize their presence.
His shoulders didn’t seem that broad when he was in the hospital bed, thought Elaine.
Stan thought, How did he get a tan like that this time of year?
The doctor was pretending not to stare at Elaine.
“Checking your holdings?” asked Stan.
“Never could understand this stuff,” Johnny replied absently, not bothering to answer the cop’s snide remark. “I used to think Dow Jones was the vice president or somethin’.” Johnny turned and grinned, “And don’t tell me Nasdaq don’t sound like a terrorist.”
Elaine was stunned. This is the healthiest looking person I’ve ever seen, she thought. His longish hair had a slight wave and a shine that would make a woman envious. His jaw line was not the type to get him a modeling job, but his chin was. He had fine cheekbones and smooth looking skin, but by far his most defining characteristic was his eyes. They seemed to shift from striking blue to a mischievous green. At first glance they appeared soft like a child’s, but as he continued to speak they looked colder and more calculating. With each sweep of his gaze, he seemed to grow more relaxed and confident as he gathered information, which was exactly opposite of what Elaine wanted him to feel. Johnny continued on in his easy listening southern drawl.
“But then, some things never do make sense.” He cocked his head to the side in a curiously bird like motion and studied Elaine, his eyes an almost glowing green. “Things like why a pretty little thing like you could be a cop.” Stan bristled. Johnny noticed.
Elaine simply took it in stride, “I have to agree that something’s do not make sense. Let’s make a deal. I’ll explain why a ‘pretty little thing’ like me is a police officer if you explain why you were flying down the highway at two hundred miles an hour in a car with no serial numbers and without scrap of I.D on you.”
The smile remained on Johnny’s face but left his eyes, settling instead into a cutting blue, “What’s the fastest you’ve ever gone in a car miss?” Elaine’s eyes narrowed and took on a threatening hue of their own as she replied, “One hundred and thirty eight miles an hour.”
Johnny chuckled, “Then it don’t matter how I explain it, it’ll never make sense to you. People tell me the thrill of being in a jet at takeoff, but they’re not drivin’ the plane. They tell me about a train in Japan that’s the fastest in the world, but they haven’t driven the train. I read about the first man to break the sound barrier and Chuck was a hellcat, but bad as he was, he didn’t build the plane he was sitting in. You probably thought a hundred and thirty was fast…well sister, compared to runnin’ at two hundred and thirty in a car you built with your own hands, there aint a thing faster in the world at that moment.” Johnny could tell that Stan got it, but Elaine just rolled her eyes.
“That does not explain the lack of identification kiddo.”
“Goin’ that fast, I’m lucky to still have my clothes. Where are those by the way?”
“No more jokes. We’re prepared to press charges and …”
“What charges?” Johnny queried with a twinkle in his eye, again a troubling green. Elaine’s eyes were not twinkling, but shooting daggers, “Speeding, exhibition of speed, reckless endangerment, driving without a license, insurance or registration. Basically, Mr. Doe, anything we want.”
Johnny extended his arms in front of him, wrists up, “All very expensive tickets, I’m sure. If you can come up with anything worth locking me up for right here and now, show any kind of evidence or citation, I’ll go straight to lockdown from here, pleasant as a lamb.”
The doctor looked incredulously on as the two officers stood with their hands on their hips, Elaine’s jaw tensed, Stan’s chin jutted out but neither had a response.
He shook his head and headed out of the room, “I’ll go get your clothes Mr. Doe.”

ch. 3

The insistent beeping of an alarm awoke Arlis Morten at her station. She felt a stab of guilt, but working graveyard shift for the past two months had taken its toll on her. Short staffed, the hospital had her working three to four 12 hour shifts a week, all of which sent her home sometime in the morning before the sun rose. As a single mom with two teenage sons, she had her hands full just with laundry, not to mention shopping and chores around the house. Add to that the stress caused by her two sons who were constantly in trouble at school and anywhere else with rules, and she felt it was noble enough that she stayed on at the hospital, covering for shifts when needed to help those with what she deemed as “bigger problems.” Sometimes it was just too much to even keep her eyes open.
This night was no different, but now she had to move. Led to room 57, the alarm indicated that the patient’s heart beat had grown irregular. This particular patient had been in a vegetative state for weeks now and steps had been taken to remove him from life support. He had a no living relatives and so he remained in the care of the state. As she was checking the support readouts, the alarm changed in intensity. His heart had stopped altogether. Don’t need to pull the plug now, the nurse thought, he decided to quit on his own. She glanced at the monitor showing a flat green line and the infamous monotone filled the room. The other on duty nurse came in and they wordlessly worked in tandem in preparation for an attempt to get his heart beating again. Arlis’ back was turned when, suddenly, the alarm stopped. Again the room quiet was only interrupted by the steady beep of the monitor tracking the patient’s now steady heartbeat. Both nurses looked at each other, then the monitor. More than a little puzzled, there had still not been a word spoken between them.
The cynical remark that was her calling card died on her lips as a different alarm sounded, this one coming from the equipment regulating his respiration. Just as suddenly as the first, the alarm quieted in the middle of the nurses practiced preparations. The steady hum of the respirator was now interrupted by a soft gurgling coming from the bed. Arlis, the more experienced nurse, slowly extracted the tube that had been filling the patient’s lungs with oxygen and emptying them of carbon monoxide from his throat. Again the nurses exchanged confused glances and with silent understanding, the younger nurse headed for the desk to call the doctor in charge of this ward. Arlis stayed and watch in amazement as, one by one, alarms went off only to be shut off again as each of the patient’s life support systems were rendered unnecessary. She had seen miraculous recoveries, people waking from year long comas, paraplegics learning to walk and sometimes run, but this? This is unbelievable, she thought to herself.
Completely baffled, she continued to remove the now unneeded life support equipment. By the time the doctor arrived, the patient lay unencumbered on his bed with nothing but a gown and blanket to cover him. Still, not a word had been spoken, so the doctor’s voice seemed foreign to the room when he asked, “When did this start?”
“His rapid recovery from the wounds and breaks has already been reported,” the younger nurse replied, “but this…this is just weird.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “This man was on full life support 20 minutes ago,” the nurse added, “a complete vegetable. Now look at him.” All eyes were immediately drawn to the prone form now holding their attention.
After a beat, the doctor shrugged, “There is a note on his record that demands any and all progress or changes to be reported to the police department… I guess this is worthy of a call huh?” All he got for his efforts to lighten the situation was blank, overworked, underpaid stares. “They’ll be the ones to decide what is to be done.” He turned to the door and said over his shoulder, “But that will have to wait till morning.”
“Wait my eye!” came a strained voice behind them, “I want outta this bag right now.” They all turned in astonishment to find the patient up on his elbow staring intently at them. The doctor fell back a step, catching himself on the door frame, aghast.
“Well?” the patient spoke again, “best call them pigs and tell’um the slop’s about to crawl out the trough!”
* * *
If Johnny had known the headache he would get when he got Out, he might have delayed a bit longer. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. After trying to construct a few walls, he realized that consciousness made building a bit harder. In a moment he was asleep. That works, he thought. A couple of Pain walls later, Johnny was awake again.
He saw the doctor at the nurse’s station talking on the phone. He seemed quite annoyed with whoever was on the other side of the conversation. The two nurses stood behind him, almost as if to use the good doctor as a shield against any gamma rays or whatever else they suspected might be emanating from Johnny’s person. They seemed at loss with what to do or think about him. Johnny smiled faintly, remembering his speech. He had found years ago that no one took a hick in the city seriously and that had saved his bacon on several occasions. The underrated man is the overlooked one. Overlooked, he was free to roam and the last one suspected of any sleight or blame. The fact was that Johnny had a mind for facts and language. The hours not spent under a hood were with his nose in a book. At the slightest smell of mold, Johnnies mind was whisked away to his childhood memories of laying up in his uncle’s attic, surrounded by the water damaged encyclopedias that filled his afternoons while his uncle stumbled in a drunken rage below him. It was a typical childhood memory for him, moments of respite amidst a cacophony of constant fear.
Astute as he had been in his youth, Johnny was amazed at the details that he noticed as he looked around the room. Already, without remembering he had counted, he knew there were one hundred, five and a half ceiling tiles above his head. The man that was in the bed next to him was fifty three years old, a stroke victim, needed his bedpan changed and his toenails needed a trim. The doctor’s fingertips were slightly yellow from smoking, but he chewed spearmint cum to try and rid of from his breath. The two nurses’ body language showed that theirs was a strictly working relationship, the younger of the two nonchalant, and the older standoffish. The older nurse was wearing a pair of therapeutic shoes that squeaked annoyingly as she walked while the younger, male nurse’s Reeboks had been on sale last week at a local sporting goods store.
Johnny’s first thought about his new level of consciousness was, that’s a lot of useless crap, but he knew that every nuance noticed could be banished from his mind, then recalled in an instant. The following thought was simply, cool.
Once again, Johnny decided to experiment. Filtering out the rhythmic noises of the life supports equipment, Johnny focused on the doctor’s conversation, hearing every hushed syllable from over thirty feet away.
“…All I know is that Detective Knowles is supposed to be notified of any change at any hour. I’ve got procedure too, you…policeman, so call the man…woman, whatever and get her down here, now. I’ve done my part and now you do yours. My responsibility ends with this phone call.” The receiver was not so softly returned to its cradle.
The doctor turned and walked into Johnny’s room. “The term ‘pig’ makes more sense to me every day.” Johnny just grinned.

Ch. 2

Johnny opened his eyes, but saw nothing. Everything was black. He blinked, or at least he tried to, but nothing happened, nothing changed. He lifted his hands to feel his face, but felt nothing, sensed no movement. Johnny tried to move his legs, but he could not tell if he was accomplishing anything. He couldn’t feel anything; he was simply awake to something without having a clue as to what it entailed. He did not know if he was alive or dead, he just knew that he Was.
For a long time Johnnie’s mind raced, but he came to no conclusions. He had no distinct thoughts or impression, he was simply conscious. He felt bound but could not feel his restrictions. He couldn’t remember who he was or how he got to where he was but he knew he was somewhere, he knew he was someone.
Johnny wanted to close his eyes to make it all go away, but there was nothing to leave. He wanted the blank void of sleep or death but nothing came. How long he was in that state, Johnny could not tell. There was no reference for time or space. He was conscious without comprehension, but he knew that he didn’t comprehend. It was maddening, yet he could not go insane for he couldn’t compile enough of his thoughts before he forgot what had made him so angry and scared.
When the light came, Johnny didn’t know. It didn’t appear it was simply there. He didn’t notice when it became brighter, so he couldn’t welcome the change. The moment it changed he couldn’t remember it ever being different. It had always been that way.
With the growing light Johnny began to see more things, but as soon as he saw them they seemed to have been present since the beginning of time. He saw walls and as the light grew brighter he saw more walls. He found that he was surrounded by them and though he could not see past the wall, he sensed there were more behind them. The light continued to grown and Johnny focused more closed on the walls. The more he focused the more detailed they became. He didn’t move closer to the walls, but he could study them and notice every detail as if the were inches from his face. It was as is if his consciousness had grown and expanded past his former restraints until tit fill the space created by the walls.
He studied the walls surrounding him without turning his head aware of all them simultaneously but without moving his head, because he had no head. As he studied the walls, he came to the conclusion that they were somewhat fresh. He didn’t know hwy he thought that, but they were newly built. As Johnny sensed that he was filling the space and he wanted to move outward still, but he could not. The walls stopped him. So he pressed against the walls. He pressed until he felt one of them crack. He looked to the wall and studied the new fissure, miniscule as it was. It seemed to him that there was pattern to the crack itself and how the separation had occurred. A sense of vague understanding filled him and he knew how to press the other walls for the same and perhaps greater result. He once again expanded himself towards the walls and he was immensely satisfied to find them cracking. The more they cracked and separated, the more Johnny understood them, and as his understanding increased, the walls seemed to fairly crumble at his whim. Finally they broke and wasted away as if they had never been, and to Johnny they never had. All he knew was that he was surrounded by walls.
Johnny began the process again. He knew he had expanded without knowing why or how. He simply knew. The walls fell quicker now and with more ease. With each set of walls that fell, still more were there to take their place, albeit it in a more spacious configuration. Still, Johnny was getting good. The walls fell almost as easy was if he was walking through them and now Johnny knew or felt that he was walking. Without really noticing, Johnny became more aware of himself and other things as the walls fell. Feeling, sensations, thoughts and memories came flooding back and were clearer. As his memories came, he became more and more frantic to break the walls. But he became calmer still, because he knew he was in something, he knew that the walls held him from somewhere. He knew he could get Out.
Johnny became more aware of his body. With the breaking of each wall, he sensed a new part of his body; his head, neck, shoulders, chest, arms, hands, hips, legs, knees and feet. H knew every piece of his body like never before, and then began again. The walls were numberless and so became his sense until he was aware of every particle of his being; every blood vessel traveling in every capillary. Ever skin cell arrayed across his body was known and understood. Then came the Control.
The walls had changed. Johnny did not understand these walls. Some were old, but some were new. The new walls that he encountered, he broke after some time spent in study. With his new awareness Johnny could pick and choose which walls to break. He broke all the new walls and found that with each on he could control more of his consciousness, his being.
He would gain control of more of his thoughts, memories and feeling until he came to another wall, then he would break that one and gain more. Over and over the process was repeated, more and more control, more and more power. Finally, Johnny found walls that didn’t encircle him but something else. Those walls looked and felt familiar but he still didn’t understand how he could break them. When he began to push these walls, a new and terrible feeling whipped around him, knocking him back. Now Johnny knew what these walls were holding back. They were holding Pain. Johnny looked over eth walls, being careful not to press against them. Looking in, he saw a distortion in his vision. It constantly writhed and twisted in a serpentine way, rolling into itself and pulsing in the air. Johnny realized that it was something broken. That’s what had sent Pain into Johnny. That’s when he realized he had made these Pain walls himself. Having made these walls, he was sure that he could make others. He had power. Maybe, Johnny thought, enough power to fix that which was broken.
As soon as that thought had been conjured up in his consciousness, Johnny felt an energy surge from him, up and over the walls. He saw the energy weave itself into the distorted space within the walls and the twisting and spinning began to assume a more structured pattern until it disappeared completely.
Johnny had learned a lot from Pain. Now he knew he could rebuild the walls he had broken. Now he knew that some walls were necessary, that some were protecting him from broken things. So Johnny looked for more Pain walls. When he found them, he fixed them until there were no more.
When the last of the Pain walls and distortions of space were gone, Johnny noticed a huge wall that encircled everything that Johnny had explored and everywhere he had been. He approached the big wall but couldn’t see over it. Yet when he pressed against it he heard sound. This was a new kind of sound. I wasn’t the sound or noise of memories, grown faint and seemingly stale, but these sounds were being made as he heard them. As soon as Johnny heard them, he could hear them again, but the sounded different. They sounded old. Johnny knew what was on the other side of this wall and he knew if he broke it he would be Out. But Johnny didn’t want Out. Not ye. He was curious about he old walls he hadn’t broken yet. He wondered what things he could unlock when he broke them. He liked the power; he liked the control, so he turned from the out wall and began his study of the old walls. He pressed them until they started to crack. When the first wall cracked, pain rushed into Johnny, so he built Pain walls around the old ones. He had a sudden thought, and wondered if the energy that had dispelled the distortion, the broken things, could fill the cracks he had just caused.
Again, as soon as the thought had formed, the energy flowed over the pain walls and filled the cracks, causing the Pain walls to dissipate on their own. Johnny studied the old wall again and found that the substance that had filled the crack was exactly like the walls he had made by himself. Exactly like the substance that he could create and dispel without pain or even effort. Johnny began his experiment. He built Pain walls around the old one that had been cracked before and began to press the old wall from outside the Pain walls. It cracked but Johnny was blocked from the pain and he used the energy to fill the newest crack. He repeated this process until the old wall was no longer old but new. It had been cracked and the cracks filled with the substance that Johnny understood, that he could create and destroy. In a moment of triumph, he broke the wall. What came was magnificent. What came was control like never before. Johnny could control a part of himself that he never knew existed. What was better was the realization that he did not have to always control it, but he could build and rearrange his walls to his own design, to his own purposes. Johnny was excited. So many old walls, he thought, so much control. Johnny began to work.

Mindset Ch. 1

The sleek lines of his car sliced through the night with frightening ease, its engines throaty rumble filling the cab with its resonance. The smell of gasoline reached his nostrils as the powerful vehicle lobed down the once quiet street. Not a few lights were turned on at his passing, curses about neurotic teenagers on the lips of the recently slumbering residents. Just warming her up, he thought, you aint heard nothing yet. So it was, following no clear path, but drawing inexorably closer to the freeway and its wide open spaces. Finally the gauge he had been anxiously watching indicated what he had been watching for. He ran his eyes over the various readouts that were the soliloquy of his engine, and he felt the small of his back, pressed firmly into the racing seat and held there by his five point harness, tighten with anticipation. His eyes lit up as he goosed the gas peddle, hearing the symphony of eight cylinders all firing perfectly, timed and synchronized for the ultimate showing of power and speed. He felt his cars suspension compensate for the curves of the on-ramp, then he hit open road. Johnny grinned. This was his favorite part.
Down shifting from third to second gear, he was slammed into his seat. The turbo’s shrieked in delight as they forced compressed air into the chambers at twelve pounds per square inch, launching the car from 30 miles per hour to 60 in less time it took to say it. He worked through the gears until he was tearing down the highway at 140 miles per hour, where his engine lacked the power to move the car any faster. That is when he uncovered and flipped an innocent seeming switch, caution yellow, on his dash. The grin that had been on Johnnies face turned into an outright smile when the engine’s strained growls was wrenched into a tormented scream. The speedometer stopped at 200 miles per hour, but Johnny didn’t. Johnny was going fast, really fast.
* * *
A wall of grey water filled Johnnies vision as the torrential rain of Texas reared it’s terrifically majestic head. A hazy line drew itself across the landscape. On one side huge drops of rain pounded unmercifully onto the pavement, gathering in pools to mix with the oil that had been collecting throughout the day from its passing fare of vehicles. On the other side was the calmness of a warm summer night. Johnny was headed straight for it. He could not turn, he could not stop, he could not slow down, but even as he entered the rain that beat the drum of his death march, he could not stop smiling.
Johnny felt the front end of the car begin to drift to the right, so using all the skill he possessed in his slender yet strong hand, he corrected ever so slightly to the left to compensate. Nothing happened. At the speed his vehicle was traveling, his tires were not even in contact with the pavement. The mix of oil and water created a surface just as deadly as ice and Johnnie’s car skimmed over the top of it. He let his foot off the gas and depressed the clutch pedal. Placing the gear shift into fifth, he eased the clutch back out, hoping to use the engine to help slow him down without losing control, the sure result if he attempted to use his brakes. He had been at the extremes of his transmissions sixth gear and even the slight drop to fifth was too much.
The rear wheels began to churn far slower than the pavement moving beneath them and the front end’s drifting whipped out the beck end of the car with a violent twist. The tires, now moving in a direction that they had never been designed to, caught on the pavement, sending the car flipping into the air. The miracle of landing once again right side up was quickly forgotten as the vehicle continued it’s far from graceful tumble down the water strewn highway. It had rotated well over a dozen times by the time it came sliding to a stop on its battered and half collapsed roof.
Johnny hung upside down, suspending by his harness. The roll cage had prevented the roof from completely caving on itself and that had saved him from being crushed by the weight of the car. Johnnie’s body was encompassed by searing pain, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. The steering wheel had pinned his legs to the seat, so he gripped it and using strength he didn’t know he had he wrenched the twisted column away from his legs. Blood ran into his eyes but he didn’t know where it was coming from. The red that blurred his vision was quickly fading to black. Johnnie’s last act of consciousness was to unclasp his harness. He heard a distant thud as his head slammed into the roof of the car, ending his struggle, ending the cognizance of his pain, pushing him into oblivion.