“Freak.”

He had been warned by Straus and by his team. Repeatedly, told that the best place for him, the safest place, was behind the walls they provided. He had listened but had not believed that in a world of billions that he would be noticed. Singled out. Laughed at. He never thought that he would cause others to alter their walking paths to steer clear of him. To be the person that caused others to stare in bewildered shock.

As he retreated back to the apartment that his father had rented to serve as a safe house, and after closing the door behind him, he wished, if only for a moment, that it was his door back at the lodge. He wondered how it would feel to cry. To feel the release of a deep sigh followed by a release of emotions. He could not draw a breath, and he could only imagine releasing stress and anxiety by paying attention to his breaths.

He had read about the importance of deep, conscious breathing in some of the books he was allowed to read and had often tried to mimic the descriptive formula. But he found no release, no benefits.

He stood, leaning his back against his motel room’s door, knowing that he was utterly alone. There was no one who would ever accept him for what he was. And he knew that his decisions to exact his revenge would prevent anyone from ever accepting him for who we was.

He felt more trapped now than ever before. It used to be steel reinforced doors, barred windows, and captors holding Tasers that kept him from freedom. Now he realized that it was his own being that was his captor. He didn’t choose to enter this world in the manner that he did, yet he would always be punished for his arrival. When his father first made contact, he thought that maybe he would have the chance at a normal life. He knew that he would need to be very flexible with his defining of normal, but it was his father. He had taken the time and expense needed to find his son. Soon after, his brother accepted his offer to meet. Perhaps to form a relationship the way long-lost brothers often do.

When he learned of his father’s plan, he knew his dreams were in vain. His father wanted only him to be the pawn in his plan. The vehicle that would bring in revenue. His brother’s plan, so quickly determined to be one made without thought, was more focused on exposing truths than becoming a family.

Alexander’s plan, however, included no financial considerations. It did not include a news conference, during which reporters, hungry for scandal, ripped the medical profession apart and launched exposes on the treatment of those in psychiatric institutions. He hated his plan, but following it had quickly proved to be his only choice.

As he leaned against his door, wishing for abilities he had only read about, his phone rang. He had only two phone numbers to memorize. Two people in the world who knew that he could be spoken to. Two souls among billions that wanted to hear his voice.

“Hello father,” he whispered. “I’m not surprised you’re calling me.”

************

CHAPTER THIRTY

It was after his normal dinnertime before Derek reached the small town of Alexandria Bay, New York. Finding the resort was easy, though the summer tourists made navigating the small Alexandria Bay streets a challenge.

He checked into the resort and was told how fortunate he was that they had a cancellation and that he would be getting a river-view room with a balcony.

“The views of the seaway are spectacular,” the desk clerk insisted.

“Awesome,” Derek said. “And can you tell me how close my room is to the McClury’s? They’re good friends.”

“Let me check,” the clerk said as she fumbled her fingers across the computer’s keyboard. “We just installed a new server, and I am not super familiar with it yet.”

Minutes passed.

“You are on the fourth floor, and your friends are on the third. You’ll probably be able to see each other from your balconies.”

“Great, and thanks again for the upgrade,” Derek said.

Derek quickly made his way up to his fourth floor balcony room, dropped his overnight bag onto the king-sized bed, and walked out onto the balcony. It took Derek only a few seconds before he spotted Doctor Stanley Mix and his wife, Michelle. The couple was sitting on their balcony, and though Derek’s balcony was a hundred feet away, he could clearly see that Stanley didn’t look well.

He could see that Stanley was completely bald by the afternoon sun reflecting harshly off his head. His shirt was baggy and revealed his bony shoulders beneath its cover. Michelle was leaning towards her husband, elbows on her thighs and a smile filling her face. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever the topic of their conversation was, Derek was certain it had nothing to do with Alexander Black or any of the O’Connells.

Derek made his 8:00 call to Ken, but received only Ken O’Connell’s voicemail. He was glad that Ken hadn’t answered as he was unsure what he was planning on telling his client.

The next morning, Derek sat on his balcony and watched Michelle Mix sitting alone on her balcony, crying. Derek made sure that Michelle wouldn’t notice him as he sat in quiet confusion, watching. As he sat observing them, wondering what he would tell his client if Ken answered the scheduled 8:00 a.m. call, he saw Michelle stand quickly and move into their room. It was several minutes before he saw motion. Slowly, even more slowly than Derek expected, he watched Michelle help her ailing husband out on to the deck and into one of the lounge chairs. After Stanley was seated, Derek watched as Michelle caressed his face and kissed him on the forehead. She held his hand as she spoke to him, with a smile flooding her face. She then turned towards the room, help up five fingers, smiled again, and disappeared into the room.

Derek quickly moved into his room, put on his sneakers, and headed down to the lobby of the resort. He felt he needed to see Michelle and hopefully speak to her before checking in with Ken O’Connell. Though he had no idea what he would say if given the chance to speak with her, he felt she deserved to know who he was, who we worked for, and what his charge was.

Once in the lobby, Michelle was easy to mark. Though in her fifties, she possessed a comfortable elegance. Her shiny, dark hair and well-conditioned body made her look much younger from a distance. But as Derek drew close and could see the effects of her husband’s illness etched on her face, he knew that cancer affects loved ones as hard as it affects those stricken with the disease.