Normalcy Is Harder Than It LooksChapter 6 Another Good Day
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Normalcy Is Harder Than It LooksChapter 21: Another Day, Another Emergency free porn video
We arrived home tired and dejected. The girls had done like I asked, so the only people at home were family, though Becky and Melinda thought that if we were keeping up appearances, then it was OK for them to be here, so we had two more for dinner. The only one of my girls left was Anh, since she technically served as our housekeeper and could pretend she didn't speak English to avoid answering any questions. However, she planned to stay inside where no one could easily observe her. I'd dropped Kitty off before coming home, reminding her not to say anything to anyone, however pointless such warnings were by now.
"Hey, Alex," Melinda said as I came in the door, enveloping me in a hug. "Cate told us you had a scene with another reporter."
After Melinda hugged me, she moved over and gave Cate one while Becky moved in and embraced me too, showing neither one was afraid of showing me physical affection any more.
Mom, of course, had to give me her own hug before steering us to the dining room table already laid out with dinner. I guess when mothers worry, they cook, so we had quite a feast awaiting us. Despite not feeling hungry, I scarfed down quite a bit.
"Well I'm glad to see someone still appreciates my cooking," Mom remarked.
"Yeah, it doesn't look like this setback disturbed your hunger any," Becky laughed uneasily, sitting back and fidgeting with the food on her plate, her own appetite apparently affected more than mine.
"Actually, we learned a little more over the weekend," Cate explained before detailing what had happened between Gail, Kitty, Cate, Melissa and I late Friday night when I had that bad reaction. "So it looks like the stress is draining what little reserves he had. Thus he isn't eating like that because he isn't worried, he's doing it because his worry is driving him to."
I still felt ill at ease telling my parents about my sexual endeavors, but everyone else in the family was well beyond that minor concern, so they didn't hesitate and no one reacted negatively. After that we explained in detail everything which happened. I mentally broadcast the conversation to each of my girls, including Patricia.
"Alex, isn't talking telepathically with people across the country going to wear you out even more?" Cate asked, noticing what I was doing by how my eyes glazed over as I did it.
Holding my finger up to remind her I hadn't finished yet, I finished my conversation then turned to her.
"They deserve to know what happened, especially since it affects them so directly. There's a good chance one of them might get accosted by Lisa Woodall, and I'd rather they know what they're up against. I was also talking to Patricia, so she could inform our people in New Orleans what's happening."
"Well, it doesn't make sense pushing yourself when you're already running on empty," Cate chided me, sharing worried looks with my mom and our other sisters.
"Frankly, it's never shown any evidence of tiring me before. It's not as if doing it over a distance is any harder than doing it with someone standing beside me."
"Beside, we speak for long time using him as a ... conduit, and it never wear him down," Anh informed them. Cate grumbled about that argument, but didn't pursue it.
"So, what are you planning to do about this reporter tracking you down?" Becky asked.
"Honestly, I'm not aware enough of how much she actually knows to hazard a guess," I told her. I'd been worrying about it myself, but things had been too busy for me to evaluate the situation.
"Don't forget, it was another reporter, Albert Rodriguez, who chased you out of New Orleans," my father unhelpfully pointed out, "and this one chased you out of St. Louis. Don't let her chase you away from home as well," he cautioned.
I didn't find such comparisons particularly soothing or helpful, as they didn't give me any insight into how to handle the situation. We essentially decided it wasn't looking good. About all we could do now was lie low and hope she wasn't smart enough to find us. Somehow I wasn't quite willing to pin my hopes on that.
The problem wasn't so much her tracking me here to Shawneetown. The problem was our presence in Carbondale, only a couple hours' drive from St. Louis. Since they both shared the same television airspace, any news about me in St. Louis would alert anyone who'd seen me in Carbondale. All it would take would be someone volunteering some information about me, and several people would be in trouble. I didn't think any of my girls would leak anything, nor the doctors or nurses at the hospital, but the patients or their families were another matter, as were the other sorority girls at SIU. Plenty of people had seen me and could link me to a number of enterprises.
"That's actually why we're here," Becky explained. "Mom called us in so we could stay here for a little while, keeping the house full while replacing your girls and hopefully confusing anyone looking for them." Her argument was a stretch, not likely to fool anyone, but it was better than nothing. Still, I couldn't see it confusing anyone seriously interested in us. Both Becky and Melinda firmly told me they'd provide whatever comforting my girls normally offered me, even if that included cuddling with me in bed at night. I don't think they meant it sexually, so the offer was appreciated.
But frankly, all this discussion was getting to me. We weren't really resolving anything. They just kept pointing out all the issues I was already aware of.
"Look, while I appreciate the concern, I really need to get away and think this out. Too much has been happening lately, between Lisa Woodall, Clara, and the mounting evidence of my impending medical problems. I've got to come up with an organized approach, not just to this one problem, but to all of them, and then formulate a plan for my follower. I just can't do that without some time away from the distractions of a crowded house full of fretting women.
"These are complex issues with a lot of complications, and there aren't any simple solutions and there's a whole raft full of unknowable possibilities. I've also got to figure out how we're going to handle all of my girls. We might be able to hide them away for a few days, but we need longer term plans. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to head out so I can wrestle with the issues and come up with a response to the crisis for everyone involved."
My family, as I'd expected, didn't respond well to this news.
Melinda started to say something, but Becky elbowed her. When Melinda pulled back, Becky leaned forward and took the lead in the conversation. "Alex, you know that's a bad idea," Becky warned, taking over Cate's usual watchdog position while Cate herself remained fairly passive in her own response. "There are too many people who respond negatively to you for you to just wander off on your own. There's no telling when someone will react like Tony or Brandon, and if you're out on your own, you may not be able to fend them off on your own."
"Honestly, how much more trouble could I possibly be in? I'm only going out for a stroll around the neighborhood in the dead of night, I'm unlikely to encounter anyone outside at this time of day, and even then they'd just be the local neighbors. It's not like another midnight skateboarding adventure."
"I'm sorry, but I've got to side with Alex on this one," Cate said, sticking up for me, despite her normally being the one to argue this cautious approach. It was then I realized just how much she hated the role of being my perennial naysayer. While she felt it necessary to warn me about dangers, she only did so to inform me, and she preferred defending me against others saying the same things she normally did, since she realized I generally did the right thing once I was aware of any given issue. That made me feel better, and it effectively ended the discussion. Everyone there knew I had some major issues to resolve, and the longer it took, the more exposure we all faced.
With no more objections, but still a lot of worried looks, I stood up and headed out. It was a warm evening, so I didn't really need a jacket, and I didn't want to take the time looking for one. Getting chilly was the last thing on my mind.
I managed to get as far as the end of the yard, my head obscured by dark thoughts, when I almost ran into someone. I didn't think much of it, there were plenty of neighborhood kids, and although it was late, it wasn't unrealistic someone might be out on the street either wandering like me, or perhaps walking a dog. But when he insistently blocked my way I finally glanced up at him. It was dark and he was wearing a dark jacket, black pants and black sneakers. His dark skin blended into the dark background and his dark hair didn't help either. I was about to ask what he wanted when he asked simply, "You Alex Jennings?"
When I acknowledged I was, thinking maybe this was a delivery of some kind—after all, he didn't look like a reporter—he pulls out this great big gun which looked as dark as the rest of him and points it right at my forehead. 'Oh shit', I thought to myself, 'this is it!' All that talk of an early death, all the worry about too many responsibilities, the anxiety about discovery, and it all ends like this with some thug on my normally quiet street in my normally quiet town. I instantly sent an image of his face and of him holding the gun to each of my girls, hoping to at least let them know what happened to me and who to look for, since I was sure they'd want to exact whatever pitiful attempt at revenge they could. I squeaked out a simple "Why?" and he just smiled.
"You scared, punk?" he asked. I thought this odd, so I straightened my shoulders a bit and considered him. He was a big man, dark skinned, with wide lips and a broad nose and deep set eyes. He had a thin mustache and a number of tattoos on his face and neck. Pretty typical attire for the streets, but hardly typical for this area of the country.
"Clearly, but not enough to play whatever games you want." That's it, I thought, act like an arrogant jerk right through to the end. Haven't you already got enough people who want to hurt you without adding the criminal with the gun pointing at your head?
"You should know your place," he added cryptically, making no sense at all as my mind again switched into slow motion as it typically does when faced with danger. I saw his finger begin to tighten on the trigger. I again sent as much detail about him as I could, including the few things we'd said, then simply shut my eyes, trying to think of any way out I could. Thinking it was taking an awfully long time for him to pull a simple trigger, I cracked one eye open. I'd assumed it was that stupid slow motion shit again, just when it won't do me any good. The gun was still there, the finger was part way back and the barrel was resting maybe an inch and a half from my forehead. I refocused my vision and looked into his eyes, hoping to somehow make it personal for him, something they always tell you to do with potential murders. However his eyes seemed lost. They had a glazed look about them. Then I noticed his left jaw was hanging open and a small line of drool was dangling from his lip. Slowly the gun started to slide to the side a bit and descend at the same time. I watched as the gun began to drift lower, first between my eyes, then across my nose, then across the side of my mouth. What the fuck is going on, I asked myself, unbelievably, as the gun drifted lower and lower.
It finally dropped down to my chest, I still wasn't out of danger yet, but it was a damn sight better than my forehead, when I hear a noise behind me. It took a second for the sound to hit me, then I realized what it was, it was the front door opening. Suddenly the thug's eyes brightened a bit and he seemed to wake up. He started to consciously move the gun again, swinging it towards the latest noise. Thinking he was going to shoot one of the girls I tried to block him, getting between them when suddenly I see the same damn finger finally tighten.
That was it.
Suddenly I feel a sharp pain explode across me, the pain both so sharp and so quick I couldn't immediately place it. I feel myself physically lifted off the ground. I didn't hear any sound. No pop, no bang and no explosion. Just the overwhelming pain and I'm in the air once again, just like I was back in New Orleans, oh so long ago. The pain made it difficult to think of anything beyond its searing sting. I feel myself hanging in mid-air, halfway between rising and falling, simply waiting for gravity to finally call for me. My arms flailed behind me as my body started to descend. I've got no contact point so I can't press or shift myself. I can't bring my arms up to my face since they're so far behind me, simply flopping in the air. As I start to sink lower I finally hear some noises. It's like what always happens when everything switches to slow motion, you notice the strangest things. However I realize these noises are voices, shouting voices. I hear a pop of some kind, but not a gun or explosive pop, simply a pop like one of those party poppers you pull during the holidays. I idly wonder why it should matter if I'm already dead, then figure if I can feel this much pain I can't be dead yet, but it's only a matter of time.
I finally managed to focus enough to recognize the lancing pain in my neck, radiating throughout my head and chest. A neck shot means either complete paralysis or a severed artery. That is if it was actually a neck shot. A bullet to the head can trigger all kinds of phantom pains, I reminded myself. There's no telling what a high speed projectile can do to the brain, most of the people who suffer one never live to tell of it.
As my body sank lower I imagined I was sinking into a grave, but instead of dirt there were colors and fabric. There was movement and motion. There was sound and cursing. Finally I reached the ground and hit with a heavy thud and my body bounced, jarring all of my innards. I could see individual droplets of blood floating before my eyes, like you see in the silly CSI shows on television. I got tired of all of it and tried to close my eyes, but the pain kept interrupting me.
I thought of the girls. All the women I know and love, and who depend on me. All those I haven't even met yet, who'll never know of me because they'll never discover their abilities. I thought of Cate, my parents and my sisters. Finally I thought of my two girlfriends.
Suddenly the question flashes across my consciousness, 'Are you OK?'
Hell no, I think to myself, I'm dying, you ass.
'How badly hurt are you?'
Very, it hurts to think much. I'd rest, but it also hurts too much to close my eyes.
'WHERE are you hurt?'
What? My neck of course. I think it's gone. I'm sure my neck is severed, or the spine is broken, or the artery is sliced. It was nice knowing you all. Say goodbye to everyone for me.
Suddenly I felt myself being shaken like a rag doll. I try to protest but I can't get my arms to work properly. Oh yeah, they're paralyzed, aren't they. What's that in front of my face? Why, it's a hand. Is it one of mine or someone else's?
Another hand appeared and waved in front of my eyes. I tried to focus around the pain and see the thing waving in front of me, but it moves back and forth too fast.
'SNAP OUT OF IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT! '
Damn, those spirits get mighty pissy, don't they?
'Come on, Alex, don't give up.' And at the same time I hear, "Alex, Alex, speak to me?"
Which one is talking? Which one do I listen to? Which one was yelling at me, and which one is shaking me? Why can't I focus? Why does my throat hurt so much?
'He's beginning to make more sense, keep going.'
"They say to keep working on him. They think he's coming around, but he may be in shock."
"Who ... who am I ... talking to?" I tried to ask. Instead it came out "Waa ... wha ma ... taa?"
"Don't talk, Alex. It makes it bleed more. Just lie still till the ambulance gets here. But, Alex, please don't go. Stay here with us. You can't leave us, you just can't."
I again gurgled a bit and could hear a wet sound I assumed was due to the bleeding.
'Tell her I'm not going, ' I sent out to no one in particular. 'Hurt too damn much ... to go anywhere.' I didn't know if it would ever get to her, but at the moment it was my only means of communication.
Suddenly something was being pushed at me, then more pain radiated from my throat as someone tried to wrench my neck loose or something. I could feel something wrapped around it so I could only assume they were wrapping it with something.
Another voice spoke, seemingly from a distance. "They say he's coming around. He's making bad jokes, so he's somewhat rational."
"Waa... ?" I tried to ask again.
"Shh, don't talk."
"She says he wants to know what's happened." I tried to nod my head but pain lanced through me as I did, and I had to close my eyes at the pain.
"We got him," the voice responded. Now that I was starting to come back to reality I could identify it as Cate's, though it seemed remote somehow. "We rushed out when Anh told us about your message. He shot you as soon as we got outside, so Becky and Melinda tackled him. We called the police and Gail before we came out, so they're on their way. I think Gail's relaying your medical status."
It was good to know someone was in control, because I had no real memories after the initial event, which I can only assume was when I was shot. I couldn't imagine how two girls could overcome an armed gunman from a distance, but I was still in too much pain to focus. I could feel myself start shivering.
Fawn
- 16.02.2021
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