A lunatic moon

Chapter 7 - Inside the PAC

His trip to the Adolescent Psychiatric Assessment Center, otherwise just known as 'The PAC', was uneventful and quiet. Leaving Chris to finish up the paperwork, Constable Lucy McGowan had offered to drive Danny over to the facility herself, instead of sending him in the prisoner transfer van with its stainless steel floor and walls. She knew very well what happened too often in the prisoner transfer vans. The drivers got their jollies by starting and stopping the van suddenly, so that the prisoner with their hands cuffed behind them, would slide all up and down and around in the back of the van. Every acceleration, braking and tight turn would throw them into the steel floor, or wall face first with no way to break their fall. More than once the drivers had been forced to make a pitstop at the hospital for stitches before completing the transfer. Lucy herself had seen drivers laughing as they hosed blood out of the back of the van. Of course, it was always 'accidental'. However troubled he might be, the thought of Danny, flying face first into the unforgiving edge of a stainless steel bench at thirty miles an hour made her angry. She had met his parents and they loved him. Apparently the kid was at his wit's end with the loss of his friend and something had made him snap. Whatever he thought the old man, Mr. Duhamel was responsible for and whatever crimes Danny had perpetrated against him, well that didn't give the authorities, or anyone else a free pass to mistreat him. So she'd wrapped a thin blanket around his shoulders and bundled him into the back of her squad car. With his hands cuffed in front of him though. She was compassionate, not stupid. She'd just witnessed him pounding an old man's head into the dirt and seen his horribly shattered wrists held flopping and grinding in the air as Duhamel lay pleading for her help. She wasn't going to take any chances with this one. She rolled the window down to let in some of the fresh, early morning air. The sun was just beginning to rise and the inside of the cruiser felt stuffy and claustrophobic. She could smell faint traces of vomit on her uniform blouse.

Looking at the teenager now though, he seemed pretty much spent. All fizzled out like a dead firecracker. He had dark raccoon rings under his eyes and traces of dried blood around his nose. His head hung, dank hair in his face and shuffling feet like a sleepwalker, he didn't seem like much of a threat and it was only a short drive to the PAC buildings.

With only the sounds of the creaking cruiser and the squawk of the radio to keep them company, both Lucy and Danny were lost in their thoughts. She had no idea what he was thinking about, but she was reflecting on what good, if any, the PAC center would do for Danny. She'd seen the types of kids sent there. Kids whose parents seemed to think that beating their children would produce better examples of themselves. Parents who would sometimes then feel guilty after beating their children, drink themselves to stupefaction and repeat the cycle, driving their children closer and closer to the edge of doing something truly irreparable. Those kids would invariably follow suit and begin drinking and drugging, lashing out at authority and those around them, until they'd run afoul of the law and end up in jail, or if there seem to be an aspect of mental instability to the offender, at the PAC.

A place like the PAC would run kids through a battery of psychiatric tests trying to find some sort of psychological ailment to blame their rebellious actions on. Anything but blame their parents she thought ruefully. Maybe there'd come a day when children's complaints of parental abuse would be taken seriously. Here though, in 1985, a lot of parents were taking the 'Tough Love' movement too literally. Drunk or not, many parents still relied on physical punishment of some kind, as a last resort for discipline. Sure it was frowned upon and shameful and that was why most abuse remained behind closed doors. Constable Lucy didn't suspect Danny of being a victim of abuse. His parents were genuinely fearful for his wellbeing, in fact, Mrs. Ferguson herself has been a wreck. She'd seen kids just like Danny sent through the psychiatric care system before. The kids would be quickly assessed, then labeled with a 'condition'. They'd load those kids up on drugs, expecting the parents to follow through on refilling the prescriptions and making sure the kids took their pills every morning. Which never happened. Eventually, the kids would get a rubber stamp of cured, rehabilitated, or whatever they called it, re-offend and end up back in the PAC. She was also aware that the adolescent building called 'Ward 3', where Danny was being taken, housed some nasty customers. Offenders who were more adult than child, but fell under the age limit for adult custody. These were kids who were violent, devious, thieves, firebugs and sex offenders all pooled together in one ward. Teenagers who were seemingly receiving treatment and medication that would reform them in the long run. Some of the teens housed there would have kids like Danny for breakfast. Some of those 'patients,' for lack of a better term, were extremely violent and so fucked up in the head, that they were months, if not years away from getting that rubber stamp of rehabilitation. Of course, the very worst offenders were kept separate from the ones that had committed lesser offenses. She wondered where Danny would fit in...If he would fit in at all. If he even stood a chance. She looked in the rearview at her silent passenger, but couldn't see his eyes. He sat with his chin on his chest, cuffed hands in his lap, apparently asleep. She hoped to have kids of her own one day and looking at Danny in the rearview mirror, she wondered to herself how she would treat this particular situation as a parent

"Danny? Hey Danny, you with me buddy?" She asked. Nothing. Silence. Oh well, she thought, they were here now anyway. She parked just out front of the double doors that said 'Admittance' and spotted two burly orderlies in white standing just inside. The PAC had been warned ahead of her arrival. They made as if to come out to assist with Danny, so she held her hand up. Wait. She had a few things that she wanted to say to Danny before turning him over. She turned in her seat to face him.

"You know Danny, this isn't a jail. It's a hospital for kids your age who have a...an illness."

"Yeah, I know what it is." He interrupted. "It's a loony bin, for crazy people. Cuz you all think I'm crazy. Even my mom and dad. You'll see...yeah you'll see. Why'nt you ask Sergeant Bell what HE thinks of your precious Jean Duhamel? He'll tell you!"

"It's not a loony bin Danny and it's not a jail." She said softly. He just grunted and shifted in the backseat, looking out the window.

Frustrated, she continued, "You're lucky you aren't going to jail. If you were just a little bit older, that's where you'd be right now. This is a treatment center. It's called a treatment center. They treat people who are having problems. It has doctors that will help you. Everyone gets their own room and there is a common room where you can watch TV and play games with other patients. They feed you three times a day and you are going to get better." He faced her, glaring and made as if to interrupt, but she cut him off.

"You were charged with some very serious crimes Danny. After the doctors talk to you and after you start to feel better, some of those charges might be dropped. You may not think so right now, but this is a good thing that you are coming here and your parents think so too."

He continued glaring at her and something about him was making her nervous, something in his eyes...

"Fine. Sounds great. I can't wait. Can we go now?" He dropped his gaze and Lucy felt a wave of relief wash over her.

She sighed and opened the door of the cruiser. "Okay Danny, have it your way."

She slammed the door and went around to his side, but hesitated with her hand on the handle, looking down at him through the window. He looked like any other teenager she'd had in the back of a cruiser. Usually, she had her partner Chris with her, but he was cuffed and they were in sight of the two big orderlies. She really didn't think he'd give him any trouble anyway. She opened his door and helped him out. She closed the door and holding him firmly by the elbow led him towards the thick, wire reinforced glass doors of the PAC facility. The two orderlies came out. They were both big. One had red hair and blue eyes, the other had black hair, brown eyes and a crooked nose. They didn't have name tags on and they weren't smiling. The one took Danny by the arm, while the other took the thin file on Danny that Lucy passed him. As they led him inside, she turned back for a second and watched, wondering.

Inside, the orderlies led him over to a nurse behind a white counter who took his file and buzzed them in through another thicker set of doors. Right away Danny could smell disinfectant and cooking food. He could hear all kinds of noise, people arguing, dishes rattling and somewhere a radio was blaring country music. They passed a set of doors and Danny surmised that it must be the main kitchen. The orderlies took him to an elevator that one of them opened with a key. They pulled him inside and the door closed quickly. He felt his stomach give a funny flutter as the car started with a jerk and within seconds they were on the second floor. The door opened onto a long hall with doors on either side and they took a quick right into an alcove where another nurse stood behind a desk, apparently waiting for them. She looked older than his mother and wore her gray hair in a bun with a white nurse's cap clipped up top. A pair of bifocals hung around her neck. She wasn't smiling either. She took the file handed to her and nodded.

"Hi there Danny. My name is Nurse Christie. I see you've met Nurse Clay and Nurse Tom." She looked at Danny coldly.

"Nurse Clay?" Danny asked grinning.

And the guy with the black hair and crooked nose said in a deep gravelly voice, "Yeah that's right Danny. You got a problem with that?", and proceeded to squeeze Danny's bicep until he yelped.

"Now, now Clayton. That's enough." Nurse Christie said with a smirk. " We want Danny's time here to be as pleasant as possible. It won't be if you're hurting him."

"I like hurting people." Clay said.

"Yes I know." She replied succinctly and looked at the file. "Okay Danny. You are going to go in and meet with our Dr. Rickert. All of our patients meet with Dr.Rickert before anything else. I need to tell you that you are here now and will not be leaving until your are fit to be released and stand trial depending on the nature of your crimes..."

"Are all your patients criminals?" Danny asked.

Nurse Tom hissed and shook him roughly, glaring at him with cold blue eyes. Nurse Clay squeezed his bicep again. This time Danny didn't yelp. He felt that funny flutter in his stomach instead and his skin got hot and prickly.

Nurse Christie levelled her stare at him and spoke sharply, punctuating each word.

"I don't know where you are from, or what brings you here young man and frankly I don't care, but I will not be interrupted. I repeat I will NOT be interrupted. You need to understand that now." She waited for a moment. Danny just swallowed and nodded.

"Fine. Nurse Tom, remove his handcuffs please and bring him in to the doctor." She handed Clay his file.

"Yes Nurse Christie." Tom said and selected a small handcuff key on a large keychain. He removed Danny's handcuffs and hung them from a belt loop. Then the two orderlies, each holding one of Danny's arms waited for Nurse Christie to buzz them in. They dragged him through the door and sat him down on a single folding chair although there were two other comfortable looking wingback chairs present. Dr. Rickert was a small man in a white coat, with thick glasses and balding pate. He sat behind a grand oak desk, smiling at Danny while he fiddled with a pipe. Clay slid the file onto the highly polished desk. The doctor flipped it open and apparently a speed reader, glanced at it once and flipped it closed again. The two orderlies stood perfectly still now, one on either side of Danny. Dr. Rickert took his time loading his pipe from a small pouch of fragrant tobacco. He struck a wooden match on the edge of a stone ashtray and puffed furiously for a moment. Then he leaned back in his swivel chair and exhaled a stream of smoke directly at Danny. "So Danny," he said "You've come to us today under the pretext of a violent crime."

If it weren't all so serious and ominous, Danny might have burst out laughing. He remained impassive however and the good doctor continued.

"We do not tolerate violence here. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He said and Danny wondered just what the hell he meant by that. "You will be in the company of other patients at times and we expect everyone to keep their hands to themselves. There is a considerable amount of intake work to do before we get started with your uh, treatment. You will be assigned clothing, bedding and a room. Your parents are permitted to bring you certain articles of clothing from home like, sweat shirts, track pants, your favorite pajamas perhaps." At this, Clay snickered and Dr. Rickert nailed him with a stern look. "Everytime Nurse Clay. Everytime that I make this concession you giggle like a small child. Why do you find the idea of a favorite pair of pajamas amusing? I myself have a pair, I'll have you know."

"My apologies doctor. I don't wear pajamas." He said in his gravelly voice.

Danny was stunned at this exchange and wondered who were the real crazy ones here. Were they actually going to have this conversation now?

"Yes of course. I am sure you probably sleep in the raw." Dr. Rickert said mildly.

Nurse Tom grumbled and shifted his feet impatiently.

Danny looked up at him from his seat in the folding chair and noticed Nurse Tom's face had turned red.

"I'm sorry Nurse Tom. Are we keeping you from something important?" Rickert asked, swivelling slightly in his chair to look at Tom.

"No Doctor." He said.

"Good." The strange little doctor puffed on his pipe for a bit, then looked at Danny, squinting his eyes through a cloud of pipe smoke. "I'll be taking time to talk to you tomorrow morning after you get settled in Danny. After which there will be visiting hours which I anticipate your parents will want to attend. At this stage in your treatment, you have no immediate need for a lawyer. Everything you and I discuss is private, under doctor-patient confidentiality. Later though your parents may opt to bring in a lawyer to speak with me...about you." He paused. "That is for later, for now, let us get you settled in. First, some house rules. Medications are dispensed, in your room every morning between 6:30 and 7am. You will eat breakfast daily at 7:30am. Lunch is at noon and supper is served at 5pm. You will eat with the other patients in the, erm, dining hall. Meals are mandatory. You do not have to finish everything on your plate, but you do have to attend, unless you are too, uh, ill to do so. Smoking is permitted in the common room and the games room only. There is no smoking or food allowed in your, uh, bedroom. Your cigarettes and snacks will be held in a private locker and are available upon request during common hours."

"If you ask nicely." Nurse Clay interjected.

"Yes, indeed." Dr. Rickert said and pointed the stem of his pipe at Danny for emphasis. "We expect you to be courteous to and respect any and all of our nurses and orderlies. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Rickert's pleasant demeanor was gone and his beady eyes swam behind his thick glasses. Regardless of his small stature, to Danny he looked positively dangerous. Dangerous is all, not threatening. Danny didn't think he was going to be feeling threatened by anything, or anyone much anymore. However, in this place he didn't have any control over what they did to him. Especially if they wanted to inject him with something that put him to sleep. He decided to worry about that if that time came. For now he had a lot to process.

"Do I?" Rickert asked sharply.

"What?" Danny asked.

Tom hissed and Clay slapped him in the back of the head.

"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear." Dr. Rickert repeated frowning. He clamped his teeth down on the stem of his pipe with a click.

"Uh, yes! Of course." Danny said. He quickly decided that he'd play by their rules for as long as he could, with whatever he could get away with. For their sake, he'd pretend to be a good boy, quiet and compliant and follow their rules.

"That's good." He said. "Because I think Nurse Clay and Nurse Tom here would agree that they have ways to, uh, encourage you, to show nothing but courtesy and respect for them. Am I right boys?" He asked with a grin.

The two orderlies chuckled in agreement.

"Well that's settled then. Take Danny out to see Nurse Christie. I believe she has some medication to help Relieve Danny of some of the anxiety he may be feeling."

Clay and Tom pulled him to his feet and before they could drag him out Danny blurted, "I'm fine actually doctor, I think I'll be okay, I don't need anything..."

Dr. Rickert stood and rapped his pipe into the stone ashtray. "No Danny, I insist." He said with a smile. "It's quite mild." He added.

He was more or less lifted off his feet and brought out to Nurse Christie's desk. She was waiting with a small blue pill in a Dixie cup. She handed it to Danny. "Take this pill and here's some water."

He tossed the pill into his mouth and handed back the empty cup she frowned and pointed at a waste basket. He crumpled the cup and threw it in the trash. She handed him a paper cone of water and he drained it washing down the pill. He didn't care what it was, he'd be grateful for some relief. It had looked mild enough anyway, whatever it was. "Open your mouth and move your tongue around." She demanded. He complied, showing her that yes, he'd taken his pill like a good boy. She grunted and dismissed them with a flick of her hand then turned and marked it down in a log.

Without a word, they started to pull him down the long hall, presumably to his room. He decided to try and reason with Nurse Tom. "You guys don't have to hold onto me anymore. I can't go anywhere and it would be stupid of me to try and fight you." He conceded.

"You got that right!" Clay boasted. Tom nodded at him and at the same time they let go of his arms. Danny made a show of rubbing his arm where Clay had squeezed it, when in actuality, it didn't hurt a bit. He was starting to realize something about his new self. Whatever change he'd gone through allowed him to heal a lot quicker than before. He touched the side of his face and the swelling there had disappeared. Although he still had dried blood and dirt in his nose, in his sinuses even. That didn't hurt either. Nothing did. His neck where Jean had choked him should have been bruised, hell it should have been crushed, but it felt fine. Apart from the turmoil in his head and heart, he felt fit as a fiddle and ready to do it all over again. If he didn't feel so tired that is. He wondered what effect if any, the pill would have on his body. He didn't think he would have any way to tell since he was already naturally exhausted. About a third of the way down the corridor on the left, they passed another set of closed glass doors. A plastic sign above the doors read 'Common Room'. As he looked in, he could see several people sitting on chairs and a couch in front of a large TV smoking. Others sat at tables playing cards and a couple sat by themselves in chairs looking out windows covered in heavy steel mesh. Danny noticed there were no girls at all. A few guys wandered aimlessly about, talking to themselves. Suddenly, without warning one of the guys walking around stopped and ran up to the doors. He laughed, pointing at Danny and slapped his palms against the tempered glass with a loud bang. He cackled and licked the glass, gyrating his hips against the door, humping it. Some of the guys roared with laughter, while most of them just ignored it. Both Clay and Tom chuckled. "Oh you're going to like it here Danny. Yes you are." Clay said with a laugh. Twenty feet or so, past the common room, they stopped and on the right, showed Danny into an eight by twelve room containing a single cot with shelves built into the wall. There was a small window covered with steel mesh that looked out over a large grassy walled in garden. A narrow ledge jutted out from the wall beside the head of the bed. On it were a plastic cup and a plastic wrapped toothbrush. A simple toilet was tucked into the opposite corner with a tiny sink beside it. For all intents and purposes it was the same as a jail cell, maybe just a little bit bigger. A pair of pale blue coveralls lay folded on the bed next to a coarse wool blanket and a pillow. "This is your room. you can come and go as you please for now. After nine o clock pm. your door will be locked. Lights out at nine-thirty." He looked at his watch. "Lunch is in two hours from now. You will hear the bell. Do not forget meals are mandatory, so be there!" He growled. It was the most Danny had heard nurse Tom say thus far.

"Now strip and change into the coveralls." Clay said. Danny was too tired to argue, so he removed his clothes and put them in a canvas bag held open by Nurse Clay. He stepped into the coveralls and zipped them up, the zipper cold against his skin. "Shoes too." Clay said pointing at Danny's feet. Danny looked down and saw a pair of yellow foam flip-flops at the foot of his cot. He pulled off his sneakers and some dirt and grass fell onto the floor. Clay wrinkled his nose. "Jeezus you stink!" He exclaimed. He tied the bag closed and the two orderlies left the room. Danny slowly and quietly shut the door. He pushed the blanket aside, lay down on the cot and closed his eyes.

Sleep took him immediately. The next thing he knew someone was pounding on his door and a bell was ringing intermittently. Three short bursts, a pause, then three short bursts, another pause and then three more short bursts until it stopped. The pounding on his door however continued. He heard jeering and laughing in the hall outside his room. Looking up he could see a face at the tiny window of his door. The face was narrow and shiny with sweat or oils, several large pimples stood out livid red on the forehead and beside their nose. They stuck their tongue out at him making a face. "Wake the fuck up sleepy head! Wake the fuck up!" They cried. "You don't wanna be late for lunch, or Nurse Clay will fuck you in the ass! Heeheehee!" The face cackled and now they started kicking his door. Soon a small crowd had gathered, shoving and jostling to get a look at Danny through his window. The face with the pimples refused to be moved though and now became angry. "Hey fuck off! I got here first!"

"Lemme see, lemme see!" Another voice cried. Danny got up and went to the door. "Oh here he comes! Let's go!" He heard Pimples say. By the time he opened his door, the little crowd had moved off down the hall, in the other direction from the common room. They continued to throw glances at him over their shoulders, laughing and giggling. "What a fuckin' idiot!" He heard someone say. Sighing, he slipped on the yellow foam flip flops and closed the door behind him. Walking in the same direction as everyone else, apparently to the 'dining hall' as Dr. Rickert had called it.

When he walked into the dining hall he looked around. It was basically a cafeteria with large folding tables and chairs. A line had formed in front of a long counter where the cooks were dishing out hot food on plastic reusable plates. Danny noticed the cutlery was plastic and disposable, which made sense in a building full of crazy people. Grim. He realized he hadn't eaten anything since the slice of stale pizza at the police station and the smell of food made his stomach rumble. When it was his turn he took a tray and a peach colored plastic plate from a stack. He grabbed a disposable plastic fork and knife and walked up the line to the food. One of the cooks put a scoop of mixed vegetables on his plate, he moved along getting some mashed potatoes with gravy, a roll and two pieces of chicken. All he was really interested in was the meat, so he asked if he could please have another piece of chicken. He heard a couple people ahead of him laugh. The cook said, "Nope. Everyone gets the same first time through. When you finish everything on your plate, if you're still hungry, you can come back up. If there's anything left then, you can have more." A large teenager behind him with terrible body odour, gave him a nudge and told him to hurry the fuck up. Danny glanced up at him and the guy just stared dangerously at Danny. So Danny hurried 'the fuck up'.

The last things he got for his tray of food, were a sealed container of apple juice, a plastic cup of lime green Jello with whip cream on top and some flimsy paper napkins. Danny surmised that this must be what hospital food is like. He looked back to see if he had missed anything and the big kid with body odour was right there glaring. "Outta my fuckin way." He said and shoulder bumped Danny. His plate of food slid across the tray and almost ended up on the floor if Danny hadn't been quick enough to right it. He frowned and looked at the big guy as he stormed away. Hmm. Danny thought, as he looked for a table. Lots of angry kids in this place. He decided right then and there that he would not be trying to make any friends or allies in here. He figured he wouldn't be able to trust any of them anyway. He chose a table as far away from everyone else as he could manage. It was a table far in the back left corner with only one other person at it. As he sat down he heard scattered laughter and noticed people looking over at him. The sole person at his table had long lanky black hair that hung over his face and trailed on his plate. Danny did his best to ignore his surroundings and set about his food. The mashed potatoes and gravy were bland and tasteless, so he tried a forkful of vegetables. They were freezer burned and tasted like cardboard. Sighing he picked up a drumstick and bit into it. It was good, really good. He was grateful that he could derive even a tiny bit of pleasure from this increasingly miserable situation. As he ate, he thought about everything that brought him here. From the discovery of Mike's body, his first conversation with Ugly and Old, his feverish dreams of the Mike-boar and his fight with Jean Duhamel. He replayed the fight in his head and was amazed at how he had suddenly gotten the upper hand against him. The old guy had been busy pounding his face into the dirt, trying to kill him when he'd had that vicious burst of strength in which he crushed Duhamel's wrists and sent him flying. How? How was that even possible? He thought about how he'd prayed for help, choking on mouthfuls of dirt and his own blood while the old man drove his face into the dirt. He vaguely remembered drawing on the power of the soil and its creatures within. All those dew worms. He remembered the Mike-boar telling him to do just that. Danny felt a wave of power flow through his body at the memory of it. His skin tingled for a second and he smiled, then he picked up his second piece of chicken and finished it in three big bites. He put the bone down on his plate beside the cold, cardboard vegetables and snuck a glance at the guy across the table from him. He learned why nobody else was sitting here at this particular table. The guy with the lanky black hair was shovelling food into his mouth with loud slurping sounds. He'd chew it three or four times then spit it back out on his plate. Then using his finger he'd poke at it, as if looking for something, then using his plastic spoon, scoop it back into his mouth chew and swallow. He repeated the procedure with each bite. Slurp, chew, chew, chew, spit, poke, poke, slurp it back up, chew and swallow. Each and every time, the same thing. Danny felt nauseous. Sensing he was being watched, he suddenly froze and looked up at Danny, whose own mouth hung open in horror. The kid's eyes were bleary and bloodshot, with dark rings under them, his skin pale and sweaty like he was desperately ill. He smiled at Danny, revealing a grin with his two front teeth missing. He spat a mouthful of food onto his plate and held it out to Danny. "Want some?" He asked with that devilish grin. The people watching roared with laughter. Danny felt his face turning red. Quickly he picked up his tray, stood up and fled. On his way out of the dining hall, he deposited his tray on a rack with wheels. The whole time his audience laughed at his back. He hung his head in despair and rushed down the hallway to his room. He almost ran smack into Nurse Clayton who stood in front of his door. "You might wanna watch where you're going." He said to Danny angrily. "Or you're liable to get hurt." He added.

"I just wanna go in my room!" Danny said near tears. ...No more crying Danny...

"Sure you do." Clay said. "I just thought you might wanna know your parents are here to see you."

Danny felt a quick burst of relief and confusion. "Where?" And he looked around as if they were right there in the hall.

"In the visitor's lounge." Clay said and pointed down the hall towards the common area. Danny followed him as he led the way. On the other side of the common room, there was a single door that led into a large windowed room that had small tables with four chairs at each table. Just one other kid was sitting with his parents. He spotted his folks sitting at a table. His mother had a bag in her lap, presumably with some things for him. He grew hopeful. Both his parents smiled at him as he walked over and that helped too. He no longer felt so alone. He felt a flush of anger creeping up, but he quashed it and sat down.

"Hi Danny." His mother said and took his hand.

"How're you making out so far?" Art asked. He rubbed his chin nervously.

"I'm ok, I guess," Danny replied, dropping his eyes. "I hate it here. It really sucks. Why can't I go home?"

"We just..." His mother started, but Art put a hand on her arm.

"I spoke with my lawyer about what happened. Everything aside, he says this is probably the best thing that could have happened." His dad said and he lowered his voice, glancing around.

"The police levelled some pretty serious charges against you. Now Mr. Duhamel..." Danny cringed as he heard the name. "...has refused to lay charges, but that doesn't stop the police from doing what they have to do. My lawyer, Casey Bloomfield, says that putting you here shows that you weren't in your right frame of mind. I don't think any of us disagree with that. Your mother and I know that you've been under a lot of stress, because of Michael's death and maybe even Julie Gifford's murder. Did you know her? Were you two close or something? Why do you think Mr.Duhamel has anything to do with that? We're all just trying to get the facts straight son. You know we love you very much."

"If you really love me Dad, you'll get me out of here!" He sighed, took a breath and leaned back in the chair. "No I didn't know Julie, I mean I did, cuz she took our bus to school, but I didn't really talk to her. I feel like I knew her though." The hot flush crept back up his neck. "I found her goddamn arm Dad! She had pink nail polish..." He swallowed hard and continued. "I swear I'm telling you the truth. Then Ugly and Old...Mr. Duhamel...jumped me from outta nowhere! I had to defend myself, he was trying to kill me."

He stopped. Breathing hard now. His mom squeezed his hand. "Calm down Danny, it's okay."

"He was choking me. He had me off the ground, trying to strangle me. Then he threw me and started pounding my face into the ground. I got him off me and I just started hitting him..."

"And you broke both his wrists too!" His father countered, growing angry.

"Oh, boo hoo. Wahhh...fucking baby. Poor Mr. Duhamel!" Danny's skin started to tingle and his eyes started glowing with a strange golden light. His parents stared, disbelieving what they were seeing.

"Okay. That's enough Danny. Keep your voice down." Louise said.

Danny closed his eyes and fought to stay calm.

Suddenly everyone in the room was watching them. The young nurse behind the counter, the other parents and their kid. Even Nurse Clay was glaring at them. Clay took a couple of steps closer.

He felt his skin cooling and the light in his eyes faded.

Art took off his glasses and folded them carefully. He took a deep breath. "The other option, Danny, is that you were charged as an adult. With assault and resisting arrest. Apparently, you even assaulted that nice lady police officer. You could go to jail for years for what you've done. You don't want that, do you? We certainly don't want that. The doctor here, what's his name? Doctor Rickert? He seems like a nice man, is going to help you. They might prescribe something... This is the alternative to going to jail Danny. You may not like it, but in the long run, you'll be grateful..."

His father intoned on and on for a bit, but Danny tuned him out. He sat looking at his hands. The hands that had gotten the best of Duhamel. The hands that Danny firmly believed now, could have even killed him, whatever he was. Finally, his mom spoke up.

"We brought you a few things from home. Some of your t-shirts, some track pants and a couple of sweatshirts. We couldn't bring anything that, um, could be used as a weapon."

She passed him the paper sack. He took it gratefully, smelling the scent of home.

"It's not for long Danny. Just a couple of weeks, I think. Until they can, uh, identify the problem. Which I think is just stress." She offered a weak smile. "I'm sure it will go by quickly and it's just so much better than you having to go to jail Danny. The lawyer thinks that as soon as you are released that all charges will be dropped. Now that makes it all worth it right Danny?"

He looked at his mother and nodded. "Sure, yeah. I guess it's better than jail. Can I ask one thing though?"

"What's that?" His dad asked.

"Did you tell Sergeant Bell to look for Julie's arm?" His mother grimaced and shuddered involuntarily.

Art palmed sweat from his brow. "We did as you asked Danny and told Mr. uh, Bell what you told us. He said he'd have a look with his partner, but we haven't heard anything more from the police."

"Thank you." Danny said in a small voice. "That's all I wanted."

He didn't think they'd find it. He figured Old and Ugly would have surely disposed of it properly by now, but it gave him hope. Somehow, he didn't know how, but somehow he suspected that Sergeant Bell had his own misgivings about Duhamel. That alone gave him hope. He brought up the image of Mike-boar and smiled inwardly. Again for some reason that gave him hope too. He knew he could count on Mike-boar. Werewolf or not, he knew now he was different. Maybe even invincible. Otherwise, the old wolf, Duhamel surely would have pulled his head off in that fight. Suddenly Danny was anxious to be outside. He looked longingly towards the window, then back to his parents.

"We have to be going, Danny." His mother said. "But we'll be back. Right Art?"

"Oh, sure. Maybe not tomorrow, but in a few days. We want you to settle in and have a few meetings with Doctor Rickert. You need to focus on getting better."

"I will," Danny said. "I'm already feeling better." He lied.

After some hugs and a few parting words his folks left by the same door he'd come through. He watched them leave down the corridor to the elevator. Nurse Christie gave them a chilling and false smile as they passed her desk. Once the elevator doors closed. She beckoned Danny with her finger. Nurse Clay escorted him to her desk.

"Doctor Rickert would like to have a few minutes of your time Danny. We need to run a few tests on you. I think he has a prescription in mind for you as well. So I think Nurse Clay here will take your bag to your room after he brings you through to see him... immediately."

She held his gaze the entire time, trying unsuccessfully to intimidate him. He just gave her a winning grin that made her frown. He felt Nurse Clay take his bicep and lead him in. The next two hours consisted of some very boring and in Danny's opinion, completely pointless tests. At the end of which, Dr. Rickert informed him of the prescription he wanted Danny to adhere to and that would be strictly administered by one of the nurses, if not nurse Christie herself.

"Now this medication might make you feel groggy at first Danny, but it will pass and you should start feeling calmer and more focused." Dr. Rickert was saying.

Danny however was thinking of something completely different and knew that none of these drugs they were trying to force on him would ever reach his stomach. Danny thought he should be able to swallow them and then when out of sight of the nurses cough them back up.

It worked too. He swallowed the pills from the paper cup and was even able to drink the cone of water. Meanwhile, he could feel the three pills they gave him stuck just in the back of his throat. As soon as he was back in his room he coughed them up and flushed them.

"Yeah groggy huh? Hmmm..." He grinned and came up with a different plan. From now on, instead of flushing the pills, which was a mistake, he decided he could put them to better use sometime in the future. The face of Nurse Clayton arose in his mind, then for some reason, so did 'Pimples', his pale sweaty, zitty face at his window, kicking his door. Danny had time to think it out and was determined to not let any of these fucks mess with him, or his shit. From here on out, he decided to make the best of these next two weeks. Whatever they might hold. He changed into one of his favourite t-shirts and a pair of black track pants. Then put the rest of the clothes on the built in shelves.

The PAC center allowed their in-patients a total of two hours outside in the garden, regardless of the weather. Obviously, if it were really cold or rainy, most people stayed in the common room, zoned out in front of the TV set, or nodding out smoking and trying to play cards. Danny was ecstatic to be allowed outside. There were picnic tables to sit at and lawn chairs too. Danny took a lawn chair and sat at the edge of the garden facing away from the rest of the people. Some kids wandered around talking to themselves, like how they did when inside. Danny figured they were probably the sickest and maybe did belong here. However, some kids seemed relatively normal and played cards smoking at the picnic tables. Danny saw one kid sitting by himself smoking and Danny bummed a smoke off him. He sat in the lawn chair smoking and watching the birds doing their thing. A robin was fixing its nest in a small tree by the wall. It was almost at eye level. Danny knew that if he stood on his tiptoes he'd see a small clutch of beautiful blue eggs. Along the foot of the wall were a variety of flowering plants and a few rose bushes. Bees flew in and out of the flower cups, collecting pollen. He watched them intently, feeling a warm glow steal over him. He smoked, deep in thought, unaware of the smile on his face. Also unaware of two figures walking up behind him. One on either side.

"Boo! Fuckwad!"

And someone slapped the back of his head. It was Pimples and his sidekick. Some short kid with blonde hair that was just as greasy as Pimples, but he seemed jittery. As if he was hopped up on ten cups of coffee.

Danny didn't flinch at all. He just looked up at Pimples and said, "Oh I'm sorry. Was that supposed to scare me or something?"

"Oh ho!" Pimples cried. "We got a smart mouth, Ronnie! This kid thinks he's cool or something. What's your name kid?" He asked and stepped in front of Danny, blocking his view of the bees and the flowers.

"I'm Danny and who are you guys?"

"My name is Rich, but you should call me Mister, this is Ronnie." Pimples said.

Danny took a drag and feathering smoke through his nostrils said coolly, "I think I'll call you 'Pimples'," looking at Ronnie he said, "And I think I'll call you Short Stuff." He looked back at Rich smiling, who was turning red with anger.

"You better not buddy, or you might find yourself hurting." Rich warned. Ronnie said nothing, he gave him a shit-eating grin and nodded his head furiously as if he was having a seizure or something. Danny just stared.

"Do you mind?" Danny asked politely. "You're blocking my view."

He tried to wave Rich out of the way. Rich's pimples stood out in stark relief on his blotchy face, he was getting very mad now. He leaned down really close to Danny's face and whispered.

"You oughta be careful Danny. You don't wanna make enemies here." Danny could smell the stink of his breath, which was quite enough.

"Okay, Rich. Thanks for the warning, I'll keep that in mind. Now please, if you don't mind I'm trying to catch some rays here and you really are in the way."

He stared calmly at Pimples and something in his expression made Rich step away. His face paled and he looked nervously to Ronnie for help. No help there.

"Come on Ronnie, let's go I'm getting bored of this shit."

"So am I." Danny said softly.

"What's that?" Rich demanded turning back. Angry again.

"I said, have a nice day."

They left and walked over to a picnic table. Danny heard Rich cussing him out the whole way and thought maybe Rich could use some extra meds. He smiled at the thought and went back to watching the bees and the birds and other little things that lived in the garden. He wondered why some people are such shits, but gave up wondering after a few minutes. Pointless endeavour. The bees are happy at least, he thought. So are the birds. He smiled and mentally drew a line between the bird's nest to one of the flowers, where a bee was crawling around inside. As he watched he thought he could see a thin golden thread between the two. He gave his head a shake and it was gone. He looked across the flowers to where another bee was collecting pollen from a fragrant rose. He did the same thing and drew a mental line between the two bees and then back to the bird's nest. There it was again, a thin golden thread that looked like it connected the three creatures. One of the bees hovered and flew away and the golden thread faded. He paused thinking and wondered if the thread had anything to do with him drawing the power. He heard his name and a burst of laughter from the picnic table where Rich and Ronnie had retired, he ignored them and selected another bee, focussing on it. He ignored the hate and anger he felt around him and regarded the little honey bee with love. He thought of the insurmountable task it had of gathering pollen from all those flowers and then flying miles back to its hive with its precious cargo, only to set out and do it all over again. Each trip adding tiny amounts of sweet nectar to the larger hive and its honey combs. He watched the bee closely and it grew in his vision. It lifted off the flower it was on and buzzed over to a lilac bush, where it crawled about a cluster of purple fragrant flowers busily. It lifted off again and seemed to slow in flight as Danny concentrated on it. One lone little bee. It turned in a lazy circle and slowly flew towards him. He drew the power from one bee and felt its goodness filling him. Small quantities at first, then more and more as it got closer to his face. Finally, it was just two feet from him and he could see its little legs and tiny wings, its multifaceted eyes. That was also when he realized he was not just drawing power from the little bee, but from everything, through the bee. Dozens of thin golden threads that only he could see, were connected to the bee. Threads from the flowers, from the bird's nest, from other bees, birds and flying insects. They were all connected. Danny understood that now. Dawning on him like a glorious revelation. All connected. Unless otherwise removed by evil. He thought. He brought his focus back to the honey bee. As he watched in amazement, its little wings stopped in flight and it hung there immobilized. Just hanging in the air, perfectly still. Not even the soft breeze could move it. He worried for a second that he may have killed the little pollinator, but then something told him that no, it was completely unharmed. He released it from his mental grasp and it buzzed off home. Then he had an idea and was eager to see if it work. So he scanned the garden looking for something in particular. After a few minutes, he found it. A large hornet was crawling around some crab apples rotting in the grass. There were several hornets, busily lapping up the fermented juice of the crab apples, but Danny had found the largest of them all. He focused intently on the fat hornet, thinking hard, trying to create the golden thread he'd seen before. At first nothing happened, then he realized he wasn't thinking about it right. He had to think about it with love, or at least with appreciation. Then slowly, but surely, the golden thread formed between him and the hornet. It rose up from the crab apple it was worrying and just hovered there in the air. Danny guided it with his thought and it circled toward him. He brought Pimple's ugly, livid face to mind and the hornet flew past him with a low droning sound. Danny smiled and thought hard for a second. He was rewarded with a loud "Agh!" as the hornet stung Rich on the back of his pimply neck and then it flew back to the crab apples.

"Something just stung me!" He heard Rich wailing and swearing behind him. It was all Danny could do to burst out laughing. He wondered what else he might be able to do and saw the solemn hairy bristled face of Mike-boar in his head, chewing on his fiddleheads. Danny felt a little tired now. Happy for the first time since being arrested, but a little tired. He wondered if he could top up his energy level by drawing power from the garden as a whole. So he meditated on it, its blossoms, the fresh green grass growing beneath his feet. He took in the blue sky, breathing deeply and was very pleased to learn that, yes he could. He could top up his energy level quite easily. He relaxed and as he did, the sky grew dark and overcast. Something was nagging him and he couldn't help but remember Mike's body on the tracks. Mike's poor arm hooked over the iron rail like an old friend, its white knob of bone shining in the morning sun. Shreds of his jeans and jacket fluttering in the wind, stuck to the wooden ties with his blood. Murdered and ruined and gone forever. Savaged by Duhamel, that grizzled old bastard. Now why did he have to go and think of that, when he was just starting to feel happy? Duhamel, that's what was nagging at him. Old and Ugly. "I swear I'm going to kill you if that's the last thing I do." His fists clenched, white at the knuckles. He couldn't focus on the garden anymore. He felt his control slipping. His mood darkened, as well as the sky and off in the distance, they all heard the low rumble of thunder.