A Loner Mentalist Pt. 08

Jack spent the night awake, staring at the roof of the RV. Mia slept soundly, draped over his side. Plagued by doubts, he paid little notice to her firm, hot body next to his. He didn't know whether to tell benevolent mentalists about the necklaces that protected against mentalism, or to leave them exposed to Shauna Patrick and her master.

Mentalism granted practically absolute mastery over any mind whose state and thoughts a mentalist could match, even for a split second. He had felt the temptation to abuse such power lurk in the hearts of several of the benevolent mentalists he had found in New York. They were members of supernatural societies and they toed the line, but Jack feared that they would skip over it, if they had the instrument of concealment at hand. Plus, if they felt the necklaces touch their skin, they might learn how to replicate their effects on their own, thus allowing them to cloak their minds in the same way as he did.

Usually, mentalism required that a mentalist become the person whose mind they're intruding into, even for a moment. It was hard to violate another person when you could feel them and their thoughts and feelings as clearly as if they were your own. The cloak-hole technique gave no such insight. Jack could only hear the thoughts he was specifically looking for. It would be easy to disregard the other person's emotions if you didn't have to feel them.

If these mentalists figured out the cloak-hole technique and that ability made them go bad and mind-rape other people, Jack would feel responsible.

On the other hand, if he didn't tell them about the necklaces, sooner or later, Patrick and her handler would get to them. They would take away the mentalists' sanities and wills to live.

Ever since his father had told him about the Navy officer he had been named for, Jack had tried to live his life in accordance to that man's teachings. Lying in bed and enduring the humid heat, he thought of them. Good men had a duty to serve the greater good every day of their lives, Jack White had taught his father. A good man was always ready to honor his own worth and the worth of others by standing up against evil wherever he found it.

Those were ideals to live by, but Jack couldn't figure out how to apply them to his current situation. Tell the mentalists about the necklaces and risk them becoming evildoers, or don't tell them and leave them exposed to the current evildoers?

He didn't feel like it was his place to decide the fates of hundreds, or thousands of people. He wasn't an elected official. He never signed up to serve. Didn't I? This trip was my idea, no one asked me to make it. And here I am, stumbling on the first step. He let himself wallow in the yearning to just go home and forget about all this.

While his mind spun in endless debate, sleep managed to creep up on him. He dreamed he was in a field. It was autumn and decaying leaves were everywhere. A sudden gust of cold wind made Jack shiver and curl up. It blew the leaves off the ground and revealed Jack was in a graveyard. Tombstones stretched out as far as Jack could see. The names on them were of all the mentalists that had suffered at the hands of Jacobs and his master.

As Jack's gaze fell, he saw that the five tombstones nearest to him bore the names of Jamie Jacobs and his four goons. Rotting, skeletal hands suddenly burst from the loose soil and reached up to seize him.

Jack startled awake in his bed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and gulped air. The dogs woke up and watched him with raised ears. He calmed them with a gesture. Mia rolled off him and he got up to wipe himself down with a towel. The night was oppressively hot and humid, even without a nightmare-induced burst of adrenaline sweat. He lay back on the bed and his mind resumed spinning in its cycle of what-ifs.

By the time dawn finally broke, he came to a decision. It was dishonorable to think of the benevolent mentalists he had seen as just bad guys waiting to happen. They had banded together and done good. Those had been their choices in life, so far. They deserved to know. It was his duty to help them in any way he could.

He would tell the benevolent mentalists about the necklaces. Just as they deserved to know about the danger that was out there, they also deserved to know how to protect themselves from it. In the end, he was laying the responsibility at their own feet. If they chose to go bad and hid it from everyone else, he was not to blame. In his mind's eye, all the suffering they could cause was secondary to all the suffering Patrick and her master will cause.

After all, everyone can be a rapist, or a murderer, but the vast majority of people chooses to not rape and murder other people.

He beat back the small voice in the back of his mind that tried to point out that the vast majority of humanity didn't have the option of making strangers do their killing and raping for them with mentalist impunity. If I decide that benevolent mentalists, people who have already chosen not to abuse others in such a way, aren't worthy of my faith, then where do I draw the line?

He got up and typed up second letters for those mentalists, in which he told them about the necklaces. He signed them with "Half a league onwards", the second verse from "The Charge of the Light Brigade", one of the few poems he knew by heart from start to finish.

Mia woke up by the time he was done and they had a breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and sausages. The dogs scarfed down bowls of kibble. Jack pulled out of the trailer park and drove them north. He stopped at the first print shop they passed, and again had the letters printed without traces that could lead back to him. He tossed them into a mailbox in the next town they passed through.

"So, where are we going?" Mia asked as they entered Connecticut.

"Well, I was going to drive us to Augusta, but...I'm having second thoughts."

"What do you mean?"

Jack sighed. "I originally made my cross-country tour plan with the intent to stick to the major population centers, where I was more likely to find mentalists. I'm not so sure about that anymore."

Mia frowned. "What? Do you wanna stay in, like, the woods...or something?"

"No, it's just," he trailed off. "For instance, our recent stay in New York was a mistake. I wasted almost half my radius on the Atlantic. I didn't feel any mentalists on ships passing by the shore."

"So, you wanna stay away from the sea?"

"Yes, we need to keep inland. When you try to cover the US with a bunch of circles, you either have a lot of overlap, or a lot of gaps in between the circles. I mean, I'd prefer overlap to huge gaps, but they are both unavoidable. I'll have to waste half my radius on the sea again, sooner or later. I need to re-think my route. I'll pull over here and you take the wheel, ok?"

"Ok."

While Mia drove them north, Jack modified his route. He'd have to stay in coastal places a few more times, but he felt confident he could cover the entire US, including Alaska and Hawaii, in less than forty stops. For his next stop, he chose a small bed and breakfast in a historic house some twenty five miles west of Augusta. It would allow him to see the whole of New England, while wasting little of his radius on the ocean. It would also let him see all the way from Boston to Quebec and Montreal. He was curious to know if Jacobs' master had confined him to national borders, or not.

When they stopped for lunch at a roadside diner, he brought the laptop and showed Mia where they were going to stay that night. The website boasted of internet access, a premium cable package in every room and ensuite bathrooms. That was more than enough to sell it to Mia. The drive north was uneventful and provided them with many opportunities to admire the beautiful countryside.

The people running the B&B were an elderly couple named Rick and Mandy. Mandy had a long face, covered in wrinkles. Her skeletally thin hands kept rubbing one another, as if she was spreading an invisible cream on them. Her husband had a prominent pot belly. His head was bald and covered in liver spots, which simply drew the eye away from his hawkish nose. They both greeted Mia and Jack warmly. They lured their young guests to a table in the large, downstairs sitting room with trays of freshly baked cookies that smelled mouthwatering.

No sooner were Jack and Mia seated, than the owners launched into their life story. They told of how unhappy they had been in their lives before purchasing this house and opening their little inn. Mandy had worked as a secretary and Rick had been a salesman. Their children had moved to Florida and California and rarely called. Mandy told of how long it had been since their last visit with a quiver to her lip and a tremble in her voice.

Jack didn't want to appear rude, so he sat and listened for the better part of an hour. When the couple launched into recalling all the minute details of refurbishing the lovely, three-storied house, his patience vanished.

"Thank you both for the lovely welcome," he said, "but I'm afraid Mia and I have to go unpack now."

"Oh," Mandy said, sounding forlorn. "We had hoped you'd be willing to stay and sit with us for a while, but I understand." She nodded with a tear in her eye. "We don't want to be a burden to you." Rick put a hand on hers and gave it a squeeze in sympathy.

"You're not a burden," Mia said. "We'd love to hear about the floral wallpaper! Wouldn't we, babe?"

"Uh..."

"Sit down, Jack! Mandy, please tell us where you found such a wonderful wallpaper! The flowers are so beautiful."

Jack shot a dubious look at the wallpaper. The house was an amazing specimen of architecture and it had obviously been built with skill for it to be still standing after all those years. Jack never had a keen eye for the aesthetic, but he thought the decor to be garish. The floors, staircases and banisters were all made of oak and would be impressive, if they weren't partially covered by rugs in clashing, loud colors. The chairs were rickety and upholstered with odd geometric patterns. The more Jack looked around, the fewer things he found pretty.

"Um, I'll leave you to talk decorating tips while I go get our bags."

Jack turned on his heel and left, ignoring Mandy's attempt to point out the beauty of the furniture to him. Rick got up to follow Jack and help him carry the bags, but he stood at the front door while Jack got the bags. He held the door open for Jack and complained about his rheumatism stopping him from repeating the many feats of strength he had done when he was Jack's age. Jack briefly interrupted him to learn where their room was.

As Jack toted the bags past the sitting room, he could hear Mandy asking Mia in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, "So, when are the two of you going to tie the knot?" He paused at the foot of the stairs and listened for Mia's reply.

"Oh, we're too young to be thinking about that," she said.

"Nonsense! You're never too young! Time is ticking away, young lady. If you don't go after what you want, you'll become an old maid. You don't want to be an old maid, believe you me."

Jack shook his head and carried the bags up the stairs to their room. Rick followed slowly, clutching a key in his hand as if it unlocked the Pearly Gates. Jack patiently waited for Rick to fumble his way through unlocking the door and then carried the bags inside. He took a look around the room and asked, "Where's the bathroom?"

Rick hooked his thumb over his shoulder and pointed behind him. "It's at the end of the hall."

Jack frowned. "What?"

Rick waved for Jack to come to him and pointed with his arm down the hall. "It's right there, at the end of the hall." He smiled warmly and spoke to Jack as if he were a small child, "It's the white door with the brass knob. You turn the knob and open the door to go in."

"Your website said each room had its own bathroom."

"Yes," Rick said. He nodded down the hall. "That's the bathroom for the rooms on this floor. The rooms upstairs have their own bathroom."

"Hey! I didn't reserve a room with a communal bathroom."

"Of course not! This room has that bathroom and the rooms upstairs have their own bathroom. It's only called a communal bathroom when there's only one bathroom per inn."

Jack blinked and looked at the other five doors on this floor. "The fuck...?"

Rick frowned. "Young man, we do not tolerate such language in this house!"

"Do you, or do you not, have rooms with ensuite bathrooms?"

Rick shook his finger at Jack. "I already explained the bathroom situation to you. Now I think it's time I explained some other rules in this house."

Jack huffed and squeezed past the man. He came down the stairs, where Mia and Mandy were cheerfully talking about the best flowers for a wedding bouquet. "I hate to interrupt, but our room doesn't seem to have a bathroom."

Mia's jaw dropped. "What?"

Mandy gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "There's nobody else staying here this week. The bathroom is practically your own."

"I also didn't see a TV set in our room, or any sockets, for that matter. Do we have internet and cable?"

"Of course you do," Rick said, sounding winded and insulted as he came up behind Jack. "It's all set up in the television room." He pointed to the door next to the banister. "Right there."

"So, unlike what was said on your website, we do not, in fact, have our own bathroom, internet access and cable TV?"

Mandy shook her head with a patient smile plastered on her wrinkled face. "Young man, I have a feeling that you're trying to be difficult. You have your own room and full run of the bathroom down the hall. The TV and computer are right here, in the next room, where we can all sit down and spend some time together."

"One TV?" Mia asked with disbelief. "In the same room as the computer?"

"Yes," Mandy said. "Oh, you young people and your flashy screens and internets and what-nots. Whatever happened to good old fashioned face-to-face conversation? Spending quality time together?"

Jack snorted and said, "I think it went the same way as truth in advertising."

Mandy didn't like the sound of that comment, so she folded her hands in her lap and said, "Young man, the way things are is the way things are in this house. You can take it, or leave it, but-"

"Oh, we'll be leaving," Mia said and jumped out of her seat.

Rick muttered something behind Jack's back. All Jack could make out was the word "spoiled".

Mandy's face went cold and hard. "As you wish. But we charge cancellation fees and we will also be charging you for a day's stay."

Mia gasped in offense. "What?!"

"We could have rented that room to anyone else today, but we didn't, because you had reserved it."

"We only reserved it earlier today," Mia exclaimed. "And you don't have anyone else here! You said so yourself!"

"That is besides the point," Mandy calmly said. She looked at Jack in triumph. "Your credit card will be charged for the late cancellation fee and a day's stay."

Jack drawled, "Yeah...that's..." He shook his head and smiled. "That's not going to work for me."

Mandy snorted. "Well, young man, there's nothing you can do about it."

"Yeah," Rick piped up behind Jack and poked him in the shoulder with a finger. "So stick that in your pipe and smoke it!"

One minute and a few cloak-holes later, Mandy was erasing Jack's uncharged credit card information from their system and Rick was on the phone with whoever made their website for them, inputting some changes. Mia watched them with a smirk on her face while Jack retrieved their luggage.

Jack drove them away from the inn and saw a small side road that led into the nearby woods. On impulse, he decided to venture off the beaten path and turned onto the side road. The camper handled the rough, rutted, forest road with ease, though Mia didn't look too happy with the jostling. They soon came across a creek and found a small clearing next to it. It was ringed by old, thick trees, covered with bright green moss. The creek burbled as it wound its way between and around boulders that broke the surface of the water.

Mia gaped out the windshield. "It's beautiful."

"Wanna stay here for a while?"

She nodded. "I'll put together a picnic!"

Jack parked as close to the clearing as the trees would allow and let the dogs out. The grass was a thick, green carpet underneath his feet. Mia put together a small picnic for the two of them and they ate it on a blanket in the clearing, enjoying the afternoon sun.

That got boring after a while, so they cleaned up their picnic and tossed a Frisbee for the dogs to catch. The foursome dashed this way and that, happily sailing through the air to catch the Frisbee. Half an hour later, Jack quit playing and turned towards the camper.

"Hey," Mia called after him, "where are you going?"

He turned around and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "To do what I came here to do."

"Ok, well, what am I supposed to do in the meanwhile? We're in the middle of nowhere."

Jack shrugged. "Take the dogs for a walk, or something."

He started to turn around when Mia indignantly asked, "Did you just tell me to go take a hike?"

Jack froze for an instant and then turned to face her again. Her expression was one of sadness and disbelief. "No! Uh, Mia, I don't-I mean, I didn't-I...you know why I'm here, I need to-"

Mia burst into loud laughter and pointed a finger at him. "Gotcha!" He shot her a look, while she laughed a little more. "Ah, you should've seen your face, babe. Go! Go do your thing! We'll be fine out here, all alone in the cold and dark. We'll just huddle together for warmth and safety."

"It's ninety degrees, the sun is shining and your T-shirt is clinging to your body from all the sweat."

She stuck her tongue out at him and walked off, patting her thighs and calling for the dogs to follow. Jack sent them the order to go with her and keep her distracted for at least an hour. He knew they'd have no problem with finding their way back to the clearing.

Once inside the RV, he scarfed down some cookies and did his meditative exercises. Half an hour later, he was in the theater, looking up intimate secrets for the letters he would send to the seventeen American and five Canadian mentalists whose memories he could access from his location. He also felt the memories of twenty-five deceased American mentalists and another five dead Canadian mentalists. Some of them had gone loony and killed themselves since Jacobs had been made into the cloaked figure, so Jack assumed that he had killed them, just like the rest.

The cartoon dog showed up in the seat next to Jack's the instant Jack began entertaining doubts. "Should I assume this was all Jacobs' work? Manipulating a mind doesn't show up in the aether. Some of these people could have just gone nuts on their own."

"That's a good point," the dog said. "Look closer at their lives. Did they slowly slip into insanity, or was it a sudden thing?"

Jack thought about it and learned that all the suicide victims went nuts overnight. "It was a sudden thing."

"Well, there you go. Jacobs' work, no doubt."

"Wait! Why can't I see Jacobs anymore?"

"You never could see Jacobs," the dog said. "When you had watched the cloaked figure take powers from mentalists, what you actually saw was the personification of their fear and the way their subconscious interpreted their sudden loss of powers and sanity. None of them had any memory of the event. When you saw those two mentalists back home commit suicide, there was no longer a cloaked figure with them. No one was standing over their tombstones."

Jack sighed. "So, if I find a living victim of Jacobs, I'll see the cloaked figure passing a hand over their face and turning them into a depressed lunatic?"