[Quentin,Alexander,Jack]
Scene Started: Wed, 3 May
2000
Dateline: 4.30pm, Thursday, December 24th, 1998
[ PC ]
A taxi, a Washington taxi, pulled up to the curb outside the Jameson household. Out of it stepped two figures. Amanda and Alexander. Alexander was carrying more bags than he had even brought in luggage.
Amanda payed the driver and they walked up the gravel path through the snow towards the house.
Quentin had just returned from the bathroom and could see the approaching figures through his bedroom window. Was that Alex? Where did they find him? No one had heard from him since he dropped out of college a few years ago. Yet there he was as bright as day. The orange robes probably had something to do with that.
[ CC ]
"Hmmmm," Quentin thought. "This'll make choosing his gift harder." He did so much want the present to fit the receiver. Mom and Dad were no problem -- the earrings and the antique pistol were an excellent match for each. But a Buddhist monk (could he *really* be a Buddhist monk?! That seemed *so* unlikely)? What *does* one give someone who wants no material possessions?
[ PC ]
As Quentin watched, two figures came running into view from the right. One was chasing the other throwing snowballs. The first seemed to be carrying a child. That would be Alan, and the one carrying him looked like the man mountain Marcus.
[ MT ]
Just as Alex was about to enter the house, he spotted the snowball fight.
[ PC ]
Amanda pretended to look shocked but didn't stick around to watch. She ducked through the door quickly.
[ MT ]
Alex quickly placed his packages just inside the door to be dealt with later and dashed back outside.
[ CC ]
Quentin smiled. So much like Marcus. He and Alan looked so happy together. He wondered if Marcus would be passing on that amiability to his own kids, when he had 'em -- Quentin just couldn't imagine a universe where Marcus *wasn't* going to make some lucky woman happier than she ever dreamed.
Alan's grown quite a bit, he noted. No clothes as a present for him, as he'd just outgrow them in 6 months, most like.
[ PC ]
And as for the pursuer? It looked like it might be Jack, but it was hard to tell because at that moment he seemed to loose his footing in the snow as he tried to change direction and ended full length in the snow.
[ CC ]
Quentin laughed to see the sight. Oh, how the mighty hunter has fallen!
[ MT ]
Back out, Alex attempted a few snowball throws at various relatives, though his aim was not particularly good. Snowball fighting is not a skill often practiced in a monastery, so he'd gotten rather rusty.
[ PC ]
As he began to pick himself up, Jack thought back to his arrival earlier and recalled the impression someone had left spreadeagled in the snow. But he didn't get too much time to think about it before a light powdery snowball caught him on the shoulder. The worms had turned.
[ CC ]
Quentin turned away from the window.
[ CT ]
Jack scooped up handfulls of snow. He packed one quickly and lobbed it. "Look out!" he called to them and stuck his fingers in his ears as if it might explode. With their attention fixed high, he zipped two more sidearm. *Thap, thap!* Holding his stomach in a silent belly laugh, he pointed a mocking finger in their direction.
Only a moment later, he found himself ducking snowballs from three directions. He ran left. He ran right. And it looked as if his foot shot out from under him on a patch of ice as he flipped himself heels over head and landed upsidedown onto the snowbank near the driveway. "Uhhnnnn!" he groaned. "Curse you, each and every one."
*Thap!* A snowball exploded across the top of his head. He glanced back at a grinning Marcus. "And you especially," he muttered.
He squinted against the glare of the sun on the snow. "Say...is that Zen?"
[ PC ]
"Yeah, and his aim is like a little *girls*," proclaimed Marcus laughing as a snowball from Alex hit the ground at his feet.
[ MT ]
Alex took this teasing without any anger. "Snowball fighting is not a skill practiced much while in a monastery," he said, smiling and packing another snowball.
[ PC ]
Marcus was still laughing when a snowball hit him on the side of the head. "Ahh! THAT'S COLD!!" But Alex was in front of him, Jack was behind, and Alan was in front making another snowball.
Marcus turned to see who his new attacker was, just in time to take another hit square in the chest from the same direction, out beyond the fence.
[ MT ]
Alex tried to use this distraction to his advantage, but his aim was no better, and the snowball exploded near the fence. He then turned and tried to find a closer target to hit.
[ PC ]
Two faces appeared over the vine covered fence with huge smiles and rosie cheeks under their woollen bobbed hats. One was recognizable straight away, Amanda, their sister. The other was much younger, around 5 or 6 years old, but with the same face. Could this be Andrea, their fabled niece?
There was a spark of recognition in Andrea's face when she saw Jack. "Uncle Steve!" she cried pointing at the figure clambering to its feet.
"No, that's your Uncle Jack, remember? You saw him a few years ago, maybe you were too young to remember," explains Amanda.
"Well don't just stand there! Give me a hand with these bags, or isn't there a single gentleman in this family?"
Marcus trotted over to the gate to give her a hand.
[ CC ]
Quentin went to the gift box that was part of his luggage, opened it, and began rummaging about, trying to find the best fit for....let's see, Alan, Marcus, Jack, and Alex so far...the buckskin jacket probably wouldn't do for any of them.... the book of weather photography for Marcus, perhaps?....Alan might like the Statue of Liberty plaque -- nahh, not right for such a playful kid....these would be some tough choices to make.
And they could be made later, he decided firmly, as he put everything back in the box, put on a comfortable black woolen sweater, and made his way down the staircase in his bare feet to greet his family properly.
[ PC ]
The warm carpet on the stairs brought back welcome memories to Quinten as he went down the stairs. Amanda was carrying some of the bags Alex had been carrying when she noticed Quentin on the stairs. "Ah! Your awake? Did you have a good sleep. Come on through to the kitchen and have something to eat, you look half-starved."
Amanda continued through to the kitchen, shouting back over her shoulder, "The others are outside if you want to say 'Hi'. But put something on your feet first, you'll catch your death."
Amanda called through from the kitchen again, "Quinten? Did you hear me? I said 'go put something on your feet'."
[ CC ]
Quentin yelled back, "OK, ma!", then strode out into the snow anyway. The shock of the chill woke him up marvelously, and he began to prance through the fluffy whiteness, marked here and there with footprints, snow angels, and bare patches where snow had been scooped up for ammunition. He bent down and started packing snowballs of his own, looking about mock-warily so as not to be caught unawares by the other warriors. He lifted the edge of his sweater, placing 3 of the missiles in the makeshift pouch he just created, grabbed a fourth, then turned around, looking for targets.
[ PC ]
As Quentin turned he realised that the fight had come to a standstill with the arrival of Amanda and Andrea. Which meant that everyone had there backs to him.
[ CC ]
"Ho ho!" he thought. "Time for the perfect ambush."
[ PC ]
Marcus was over by the gate, with Alan following him. Jack was standing in the middle of the snow covered lawn of to the right, doing his best to impersonate a snowman, and Alex was at the edge of the path with a snowball in hand looking for a target.
[ CC ]
Quentin didn't want to aim at Marcus and then miss -- no collateral damage for Amanda or the little girl with her. Jack had been sufficiently snowed under. That left Alex, the only one still active, still armed, and still wary.
[ CT ]
Jack brushed the snow off his pants and ambled after Marcus. "Hi Amanda," he said with a wry grin as he grabbed a suitcase. He smiled down at Andrea, "Steve? I'm like a MILLION times more fun than Steve." He held out his hand, "C'mon."
[ PC ]
Andrea held both her arms up towards Jack, "Give me a coddy'! Uncle Steve gives me coddy's." Amanda nodded when Jack glanced over at her.
[ CT ]
Jack set the suitcase on the ground and scooped Andrea up into his arms. He gave her a vigorous hug. "Now how am I going to carry the suitcase?" he asked her. They looked down at the suitcase.
"Here," he said. And he hoisted Andrea up over his shoulder as he bent over to grab the suitcase. As he stood up again, he had Andrea by the knees hanging upside down behind his back. "Where'd she go?"
[ PC ]
Andrea was laughing hysterically as she clung to the edges of Jack's coat.
"Careful, Jack," said Amanda smiling.
[ CT ]
Jack turned around, facing the others.
"Hey," he said to the others, "I think Dad wanted to talk to us. And I can't wait to hear where you two have been all this time." He looked from Alex to Quentin and back again.
[ PC ]
Alex and Quentin seemed preoccupied.
[ CT ]
Jack dropped the suitcase, stuck his free arm behind his back and caught Andrea as he let her slide down the other side. He doubled over, looking between his legs. "Hey, you're right back where you started! We'd better try that again."
Jack picked up Andrea again. This time, he shifted her to his right arm and grabbed the suitcase with his left. He nodded at her, "Now that ought to do it."
[ PC ]
Amanda was laughing, "Jack, do you even know what a coddyback is? You're supposed to carry her on your back. Come on lets get inside."
[ CC ]
"Git 'im afore 'e gits you," Quentin thought gleefully, as he let fly, grabbing up another from his sweater to be ready for another shot.
[ PC ]
As Quentin let fly with his first snowball, Alex's own was already on it's way to it's target. Alex's throw was on target, but Quentin deftly side stepped it as his own missile flew true. Alex was able to lean to the side just in time to avoid the snowball.
Alex raised the ball in his other hand and let fly, Quentin was still trying to pick up his next weapon when there was an explosion of fluffy white snow as he took a direct hit to his left shoulder.
[ MT ]
"Haha! Throw like a girl, eh?" cried Alex.
[ PC ]
Quentin hadn't even seen it coming, his eyes on his pouch of missiles. He wasn't going to let that be the end of it and lobbed his ball at his attacker and caught Alex as he was holding his hands in the air after his successful strike. Alex however had managed to twist to the side avoiding the impact of the ball, but his coat was clipped by the ball and it exploded into a cloud of snow as it passed him.
[ MT ]
Zen glanced around a little, realizing that the others had stopped participating in the snowball fight. Then he looked back at Quentin, not wishing to be caught by surprise if it continued.
[ CC ]
Quentin grabbed his last two snowballs in either hand, looked at Zen and the others, and then chucked them over his shoulders and laughed. "All right, all right", he said, as he brushed the powdered snow from his sweater, "you win this round." He looked over the group and sighed, "*Gosh*, it's good to see you all again." He walked toward them, his bare feet crunching into new snow, and began to dispense handshakes and hugs.
[ CT ]
"Hey." With his arms full, Jack could only nod. "You're gonna get frostbite, don't you think?" He glanced down at Quentin's feet and smirked, "You're gonna be in trouble with Mom."
[ CC ]
Quentin looked down. "Oh, I hardly notice," he said, despite the fact that his feet were indeed turning a fiery red in color. "Well, it looks like everyone's had their snow baptism, except for these two fine ladies -- do you need to be graced with a few flakes or an icicle down the back?"
Not stopping to catch their reactions (which he'd guess to be ones of horror or derision, mock or otherwise), he began loping toward the front door. Once there, he opened the door with a flourish and beckoned the others inside, an unlikely butler.
[ PC ]
Amanda headed inside the house followed by her brothers.
In the hall Amanda was comming out of the kitchen a huge smile on her face at the sight of her children. She embraced Amanda, "Oh welcome home dear, little Panda." Amanda's nickname as a child, both from a need for her father to refer to one or the other as for her tendancy to get into fights with her other siblings. She usually left them with a black eye.
Turning Amanda, looked at Andrea, "Do you have a hug for your Nanna?"
"Yes," replied Andrea leaned away from Jack towards her grandmother and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, before cluching tightly to Jack again.
Amanda glanced scathingly at Alex and Quentin. "Bags, feet, now!" was all she said before leading Panda into the kitchen.
[ MT ]
Alex nodded, and turned to collect his bags and move them upstairs.
[ CC ]
Quentin grinned, but he wiped his feet carefully dry on the floormat in the foyer, then headed upstairs to his room to put on some warm woollen socks and comfortable slippers.
[ PC ]
"Excuse me," said Marcus, "I'll just put Amanda and Andrea's bags upstairs." With that Marcus started to climb the stairs in his usual two-step stride.
[ MT ]
Ater finishing taking his bags upstairs, Alex quickly returned downstairs to help with any further Christmas preparations.
[ CC ]
Quentin slid down the banister to the front room and headed to the kitchen to help Mom prepare the evening meal. He knew a few good vegetarian recipes he thought Alex might like. He strode in confidentally and began to rummage in the cupboard for spices.
[ CT ]
Jack set Andrea on the floor and helped her out of her winter coat, mittens and boots.
[ PC ]
"Thanks," said her mother. "Here. I'll take those," she said taking the jacket, mittens and boots from Jack. She turned to go back out into the hall just as Marcus appeared in the doorway. "Thanks, Marcus," Amanda smiled at his suprised look as she filled his hands with Andrea's gear.
"Hey, since when did I become the butler round here?" he complained as he ducked back out the door.
[ CT ]
As his brothers returned, Jack followed Alex and Quentin into the kitchen. He scooped a carrot stick into the vegetable dip and munched down. "Alright, so let's have it. Three years...you don't write, you don't call... what's going on in your life?"
[ PC ]
Everyone, except Quentin, settled into the many chairs surrounding the huge kitchen table that filled one end of the room.
[ CC ]
"Well, not as much as I would like", said Quentin, as he began rummaging in the refrigerator. "Hey, Ma, do you have any eggplant or cauliflower in here....never mind, I found 'em." Pulling them from the vegetable crisper, he got a colander for the latter and a sharp knife for the former. As he peeled the eggplant, he continued, "I've been trying to make sense of a few things in my life -- no need to go into gory details right now -- and part of that personal analysis goes a lot easier if I *perform* it, if I create a visual representation that I can look at outside myself from the inside....yeah, yeah, I know, but I just can't *describe* it."
He reared his right leg back and rubbed the back of his neck with the toe of his slipper.
[ PC ]
"Ahh! Bendy-Wendy!!" shrieked Andrea in delight.
His mother glanced at the ceiling for a moment before her smile returned.
[ CC ]
Quentin continued: "There's a little theatre off-off-Broadway, the Purple Platypus....look, I didn't name it, OK?" After the giggles subsided, he went on. "So, anyway, he was the only theatre-owner who didn't throw me out of his office when I came to him with the idea for this show that I wanted to develop. He's given me the space and stage to continue the work on this production, and I'm earning enough from that and the ConEd job -- I can string cable like no other worker in the city -- to have a decent apartment off the edge of the Bronx. It's not pretty, but it's comfortable enough, and the neighborhood isn't a war zone, so I get by."
Quentin cubed the peeled eggplant, threw the chunks into the colander with the cauliflower, then began rinsing them in the sink while plucking apart the ripe crisp whiteness of the cauliflower head. "Truth be told, the show isn't doing so hot. I'm scrambling for a few more ideas -- sometimes they're great, sometimes they stink. It's all a big Process, ya know? It'll come together soon, though. I just know it."
Quentin grew quiet as he finished off the vegetables and put them in a steamer basket, ready for cooking. As he assembled spices and other condiments for what appeared to be a marinade or sauce, he said, "Well, that's me in a nutshell for now. Alex? And *you*, Jack, you haven't been the fount of communicatory exuberance your- self", half-sternly, half-jokingly.
[ CT ]
"Me?" Jack smiled. "I've just been trying to make an honest living (God bless capitalism). I'm on the road a lot, but I've been here every year. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July. Isn't that right, mom?"
Jack continued, "It's you two who've been A.W.O.L."
[ CC ]
Quentin stiffened, looking about to retort, but said nothing. His sauce- mixing became noticeably more strenuous, and his jaw settled into a look of grim determination.
[ MT ]
Zen shrugged, unsure how to sum up the last few years of his life. "I've been seeking after wisdom and enlightenment. I was studying at a Buddhist monastery for the last few years, but my teacher told me to seek the Buddha out in the world, so I left. This was just a little while ago, so I thought I'd begin my travels at home for Christmas."
[ CT ]
"Hey Zen, have you ever heard that saying, 'When you meet the Buddha, kill the Buddha.' I think I read that somewhere. Any truth to it?" asked Jack.
[ MT ]
Alex nodded. "My teacher told me 'I you meet the Buddha on the road to enlihtenment, kill him.' It's one of the standard Zen koans. I believe it has to do with giving up even the for enlightenment, but I'm not yet a Zen master so I can't say for certain."
[ CT ]
Jack caught a glimpse of Quentin's determination. "Quent, are you alright?"
[ CC ]
"Oh, *just* fine", Quentin replied, with a hint of a scowl. He put the bowl aside, grabbed an iron pot from the cabinet, and put on water to boil, to steam the vegetables with. He leaned against the counter, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds, sighed deeply, then turned his gaze back to Jack.
"Look, Jack, we've not been the most *ordinary* of kids -- we've both had our troubles, and we've both seem to have overcome them and then some. Still, I've got a problem with that AWOL dig, OK? Yeah, I don't call home every 5 minutes. Yeah, I've been a bit of a loner over the last few years. But I'm here *now*, and, if there'd been the slightest trouble affecting this family, I'd've been here *then* as well." Quentin drew his hand across his face, willing down the exasperation. He stroked his jaw, looking down at the table.
[ CT ]
Jack looked straight at Quentin. "I know you would've," he replied with not an inch of doubt. By way of explanation he continued, "I'm just really glad to see you." He tried to get a look at Quentin's face -- to meet his eyes.
[ CC ]
"I don't want to raise a ruckus. Not with the Family together like this. I just want the chance to enjoy your company once again and not fight with each other like the kids we *used* to be."
[ CT ]
"*I'm* an idiot," Jack said. "I'm didn't mean anything by it." He clasped his hand over Quentin's shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's so good to see you."
[ CC ]
Quentin's eyes glinted hard, briefly, and then softened. "Anyway, I better get these veggies on the pot, unless you're got a real craving for _al dente_." With that, Quentin turned, lifted the steamer basket, placed it gently over the boiling water, and covered it with a heavy lid.
[Quentin,Alexander,Jack]
Scene Started: Tue, 23 May 2000
Dateline: 5.00pm, Thursday, December 24th,
1998
[ PC ]
As they talked, catching up on what each other had been upto, the light finally faded outside. The street lights flickered on, casting patchy shadows through the branches of the trees. It stopped snowing briefly then continued again, a little heavier this time.
Panda had been married briefly to a USAF pilot, Peter Hanover. He was killed a when Andrea was only 2. Since then Amanda had moved back to Washington from New Jersey and was working part-time as a secretary for an accountancy firm.
Marcus was still living and working in New York as a taxi driver. He seemed to thrive on the hustle and bustle of the traffic there.
After about a half hour Samuel came through from his study wearing his cream woolen cardigan and pressed trousers. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. It was obvious Marcus' looks came from his father. They could have been twins, but for the slight graying of Samuel's temples. "Ah, here you all are."
He smiled round the room at everyone. "Where's Andrea? Isn't she here? That's a pity, I had a present to give her early."
"Hey! Here I am granddad!" cried Andrea, who was sitting in plain sight, waving her arms, desperate not to miss out on a present.
Samuel's eyes squinted briefly and he looked over his shoulder, "Andrea! Where are you?!" he called as he started walking back out the door. Andrea scurryed after him, "Granddad!"
Andrea caught her grandfather's hand just outside the kitchen, "Granddad, here I am!"
Samuel stopped and looked down, "Ah! There you are. Where have you been hiding?"
"Silly granddad. I was in there with everyone else," giggled Andrea pointing back into the kitchen. "What's my present?"
Samuel smiled as he crouched next to his granddaughter. "A hug," he said wrapping his arms around her.
They both came back into the kitchen, just as the door bell rang.
[ CC ]
"Mom? Dad?" Quentin asked. "Were any other family members supposed to stop by?" He smiled. "I have to know these things if I'm going to have enough presents for everyone."
[ CT ]
"I'll find out," Jack said as he strood out of the kitchen to the foyer. He swung open the front door to welcome whomever it was. He hadn't expected the face looking back at him.
[ PC ]
A pale, thin, poorly dressed young man, with a nervous shift in his stance was standing outside the door. The snow in his brown hair was melting and his cheap crumpled suit was damp. He must have been freezing. In his hands he held a thick manilla envelope. Not the christmas card variety.
"Uhm, Hi, I'm looking for Samuel Jameson. I need to see him. I have a package for him," he unconsiously indicates the envelope.
[ CT ]
"Please come in," Jack opened the door for the young man. "Merry Christmas," he offered half-heartedly. Jack thought the man seemed far from merry. "Let me offer you a cup of coffee. Who should I say is asking for my father?"
[ PC ]
"Thank you," he said stepping through the door. "My name is Dino Morelli. I-- ATCHOO!" He jerked violently at the sudden sneeze. "Oh, excuse me." Just at the edge of his right nostril was a tiny rivulet of blood that hadn't been there before. His voice quickly turned more desperate, "I need to see Samuel Jameson Now! Please. I don't have much time." Dino took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose.
[ CT ]
Jack flashed a look of alarm. "Just don't drip on the carpet!" He retreated quickly into the kitchen.
"Dad!" He got his attention while he grabbed the box of kleenex next to the phone. "Dino Morelli here to see you with a package," Jack continued. He headed back out to the foyer. "He's got a nose bleed!"
[ PC ]
Samuel glanced at the doorway back into the hall. "Show him into my study, please Jack." With that he picked up a cup of coffee Amanda had just finished making and added a touch of milk before heading out towards the hall.
[ CT ]
Back in the foyer, Jack pulled three or four sheets of kleenex and handed them to Dino. "This should help."
[ PC ]
"Um, thanks," he took the kleenex and held his head them in a wad to his nose.
[ CT ]
"Follow me." Jack lead the visitor thorugh the hall to his father's study. The door was open and he showed him inside. "Dad, Dino Morelli."
[ PC ]
"Thanks, son." Samuel passed through into the study after Mr Morelli. Dino started to speak "It's the containment --" but stopped abruptly before the door closed. Jack couldn't hear anything else through the door.
[ CT ]
Jack returned to the kitchen where he imagined finding his family dead -- their eyes and noses filled with dark blood dripping over the counter tops onto the faded kitchen linoleum. Blinking his eyes, the vision cleared and everyone was once again robust with activity, much as he had left them.
"So Mom, who's this Dino Morelli?"
[ PC ]
"Dino Morelli? I don't think I've heard your father mention him before."
[ CC ]
"Heh," Quentin said. "Sounds like a name taken straight from _The Godfather_. At least I don't have to worry about having a present for *him*." He tasted the sauce he'd been mixing, his good humor restored and the brief tense moment prior all-but- forgotten. "Needs a dash of nutmeg. Could you get it for me, Alex?"
[ MT ]
Zen looked up, after having been lost in thought. "Sure" he said, and rummaged in the cupboard for it. "What do you suppose could be so important that he couldn't wait until after Christmas?" Finding the nutmeg, he handed it off to Quentin.
[ PC ]
"Now, now. You all know your father can't speak about his work in the Navy. Just let him deal with this and come back to us," chided Amanda.
[ CT ]
"I heard Dino say something about 'containment,'" Jack said. "You don't suppose there's some kind of germ problem do you? Y'know... sudden nose bleed..." Jack looked around the room, "...or have I been to the movies too many times?"
[ CC ]
Quentin looked up from the finished sauce. "You know, I've read that exposure to high levels of radiation can cause hemorrhaging and nosebleeds like you mention." His brow furrowed, then bright- ened. "Then again, so does exposure to dry cold air. I'm sure it's nothing serious." He stepped back from the table, went over the sink, and washed his hands. "Anything more I can do to help for dinner, Ma?", he asked, as he moved to put away the spices he'd used.
[ PC ]
Marcus laughs, "No, you just went to see the wrong ones."
Andrea sniffed slightly and stood up. "Nanna! Can I go to the toilet?" interupts Andrea politely.
"Of course you can dear. You know where it is, be carefull of the stand behind the door. Don't knock it over.
"Quentin, you couldn't make us up some of your eggs bennedict? It would go great with everyone's dinner. Panda, while Andrea's out, I managed to get that game for her she was wanting this afternoon while I was out with Alex. I haven't had a chance to wrap it yet though."
"Thanks mum. I'm sure she'll love it. Hopefully it'll keep her quite for a little while."
[ CC ]
"Ummmm...are we serving in 30 minutes? I'll need to get the eggs a little closer to room temperature, and I'll be playing a fine line between poaching the eggs and making sure the Hollandaise is just right. And, of course, we'll need to get everything else out to the table before it cools down."
Quentin mused a bit. "Yeeeeeeeaah, I can do it. Alex, are you fine with eggs? I can substitute some asparagus or mushrooms for the Canadian bacon, but I don't know how strict you might be on eating eggs."
[ MT ]
Alex shook his head. "No eggs for me, thanks. It's not quite born yet, and the Tibetan Book of the Dead claims the soul doesn't enter until birth, but it's close enough that I'll avoid it, just in case it hurts my karma anyway. Besides, I haven't eaten any in a couple years, so I don't know if I still have all the enzymes to digest it."
[ CC ]
While he spoke, Quentin pulled the eggs from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter. He craned past Marcus to the cupboard for English muffins, and soon became a flurry of activity, separating egg yolks, setting up poaching water, slicing muffins and meat, and preparing a large serving dish to hold the finished creations (with a smaller plate for Alex's -- "I'll be careful to keep from using the meat knife on yours," he told him).
[ PC ]
After a few minutes of more idle chatter Andrea returned from the bathroom.
"You took your time. Are you ok?" asked Panda lifting Andrea onto her knee.
"Yes. I just feel a little sleepy now." Andrea cuddled into her mother.
After another half hour catching up in the kitchen Amanda checked the oven for the third time. "Okay, we'll need to serve this now before it gets over cooked. Alex, could you go let you father know we are serving dinner, and if he would like me to serve him and his guest in his study. Marcus, Jack the plates are in the cupboard there. Quentin can give me a hand here. Panda, you and the kids can go make yourselves comfortable in the dinning room."
Marcus pulled open the indicated cupboard. Taking out a stack of china plates, he handed them to Jack.
[ CT ]
Jack lifted the plates out of Marcus's hands and turned to the dining room.
[ PC ]
The dinning table was a long, heavy solid-wooden table. It would have looked at home in some medieval setting. The table was covered by a white cotton tablecloth and a number of wooden platers for hot serving plates in the centre.
[ CT ]
He dealt mother's china like playing cards around the table, gliding each one soft and smoothly into place. He knew if he chipped even one, he'd have to buy mother a whole new set, and he didn't want to have to do that.
Jack clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Marcus! Do the knife and fork thing..." and Jack held out both hands like a circus juggler ready to catch. "Handles first this time."
[ PC ]
"Ouch! That's going back a bit. Do you still have those scars?" reminisced Marcus as he handed Jack the cuttlery.
That was Scott, the third eldest who had been the guilty one there. When he was eighteen he had been to see the Ringling Brothers and decided that Jack, who was thirteen at the time, would do a knife throwing act in yard, against the oak tree.
[ CT ]
"You mean that one there..." Jack pointed to a one inch scar between his left thumb and forefinger. "...and this little guy." Jack pointed to tiny mark under his right pinky. "Ah, that's just good clean fun. Oh, Dad threw a fit!" Jack laughed and trailed off, "Oh man, wild days indeed."
[ CC ]
Quentin laughed as he swept into the room with the steaming-hot eggs Benedict, done to perfection and lightly garnished with a dusting of paprika and finely-chopped parsley. He placed the large serving platter near the table center, atop one of the wooden platters.
Quentin made ready to place the smaller dish, replete with a savory layer of asparagus and portabello mush-room. He mock-juggled the plate, twisting his arm behind his back and placing the dish well-balanced on the sole of his slipper, then bending his leg outward and forward in a smooth sinuous motion. The food trembled, but never threatened to fall.
[ CT ]
Jack nodded his approval, "Very nice."
[ PC ]
Alan settled down in a chair at the table. "Could I have a glass of water please Jack?"
[ CT ]
"You bet," Jack said. "Save me a seat next to you, okay?" Jack walked back into the kitchen and filled a glass of water.
[ PC ]
Amanda settled Andrea into a chair, but the little girl looked as though she would fall asleep at any moment.
"Hey Marcus, you and Quentin are both living in New York, how come you didn't come down together?" asked Amanda as she finished propping Andrea up in her seat.
[ CC ]
"That's a good question, Amanda," Quentin interrupted, "but we really don't see that much of each other there. It's a *really* Big Apple, you know." He glanced at Marcus speculatively -- actually, Amanda's question *was* a good one. He wondered why exactly the two of them weren't closer. He shrugged -- perhaps their everyday worlds away from the Family were just too divergent, their spheres of interaction focused in very different areas. "Then again," Quentin mused to himself, "I'm not exactly the most outgoing fellow, and Marcus always seemed to have a smile and an ear for everyone around him."
He shook his head, like a half-hearted clearing. "Boy, this all smells so good, especially the eggs Benedict, eh?" He winked conspiratorially at the elder Amanda.
[ PC ]
Alex walked down the hall to the study door at the foot of the stairs. Knocking, there was no reply. Knocking again there was still no reply.
[ MT ]
Zen slowly opened the door and peeked inside. "Dad," he spoke as his head moved in, "we're getting ready to eat and need to know if your associate will be staying."
[ PC ]
There was still no reply.
As Zen pushed the door open he could see the edge of the huge desk that his father worked at. It was a huge oak desk that had been in the family for generations. From front to back it was about five feet, and about eight feet wide.
Moving further into the room Zen could see his father leaning over the desk an arm stretched toward the far side. He was lying on the desk. In his right hand by his side he was clutching a letter opener. His eye's were closed and a small trickle of blood was coming from the corner of his mouth to pool on the desk. The many grooves on it's surface had spread the blood out into weird lined patterns.
[ MT ]
Alex fully entered the room. "Dad? What happened?" He glanced around the room for Morelli.
[ PC ]
To the right, behind the door lay the slumped form of a man. This must have been Morelli. He was lying on the smashed remains of the drinks trolley. Splinters of wood and glass lay scattered over the sodden carpet. The smell of sweet spirits filled the air. Looking at Morelli it was clear from the angle that his head was twisted, that he was dead.
[ MT ]
Alex then approached his father, to see if his father was still alive and breathing, and see if he needed any medical attention.
[ PC ]
As Alex crossed the room he approached the figure of his father. Moving around the chair opposite the desk his foot kicked a heavy crystal decanter laying on the floor. Alex could just see a small bubble of blood grow from his father's nostril before bursting. He was still breathing.
Samuel was slumped across the top of the huge desk as if he had been reaching across it with his left arm before falling onto it. In his right hand was the letter opener that Quentin had gotten him for his fifty-seventh birthday, eight years ago.
Alex leaned closer to check his pulse and brushed an envelope lying on the desk, just out of reach of his father's out streached hand. It took a moment for Alex to find it but the pulse was still their, very weak, very slow.
[ MT ]
Zen yelled out to the others. "Someone get in here! I think Dad needs medical help!" Then he examined the envelope, hoping for clues as to what happened.
[ PC ]
Nobody heared Zen's shouting.
The envelope was the brown manilla variety. Alex picked it up. It was heavy for it's size, and very rigid, like it had a strip of metal inside it. The flap was tucked unside, not sealed. Alex opened the flap and found a strangly patterened metal strip inside.
The metal strip was about 6" by 3" by 1/4", and heavy like lead or gold. The surface was a wash with a shimmering patteren like oil on water. The pattern swam as Alex watched.
Samuel tried to raise his hand toward the strip and managed to gasp "...mogul...," before slumping back onto the desk. His right arm was pushed out and hit a small plastic box sitting on the desk with a small green light on it and a button.
Looking at the box Alex could see perforations on one side of it in the surface like it held a speaker within.
[ MT ]
Alex decided to deal with the weird artifacts on the desk later and went out to get the others and call for help.
[ PC ]
Alex stepped back into the hall and could hear the voices coming from the kitchen and dining rooms to the rear of the house. Happy, Family sounds. The strip of metal felt strangely cold, heavy and alien in his hands.
[ MT ]
Zen stepped into the kitchen and addressed all present. "Dad seems to have collapsed for some reason, and his friend is possibly worse. I think they may both need medical care quickly."
[ CT ]
At the kitchen sink, Jack was halfway through filling a glass for Adam. He asked quite loudly over the rush of water from the faucet, "What?"
[ PC ]
Amanda started to speak, "Alex, that isn't..." but trailed of when she realised that he wasn't lying. Rushing past Alex standing in the door she ran down the hall and into the study. Marcus grabbed a first-aid kit from a shelf and followed.
[ CC ]
Quentin was startled. Collapse? Medical attention? And he thought that nosebleed was nothing. He quickly ran to the telephone in the kitchen to call 911 and requested an ambulance.
[ PC ]
"I'm sleepy, mommy," moaned Andrea from the next room.
"Wait here" said her mother as she came into the kitchen. "Alex? What is it? Is Dad alright?"
[ CT ]
Jack put the glass down on the counter. In all the action, he understood something had happened. Something that started with a stranger's nosebleed.
[ PC ]
Alan pushed his way past Amanda into the kitchen. "What's happening? Alex, what's that?" he indicated the strip of metal in Alex's hands.
[ CT ]
"Alan!" Jack called out, "don't get any closer. Zen, is that from Mr. Morelli? Um, maybe you should put it down."
[ PC ]
Alan stopped where he was, "What's going on?"
[ MT ]
"This?" Zen said, surprised to realize he was still holding the metal. "It's something I found in there with Dad. I thought it might give us some idea what was going on. Didn't realize I was still holding it." He looked at it again. "Maybe it is dangerous" he decided, and looked for someplace to set it down, where it wouldn't be disturbed.
[ PC ]
"Don't put down near the food!" screached Amanda.
[ MT ]
Zen stopped what he was doing. "Oh yeah, it could have all sorts of germs or something. Sorry."
[ PC ]
She looked about to find someplace better, "Through here, on the table." Amanda went through into the dining room and lifted a corner of the table cloth to reveal the oak top underneath. "Here."
[ MT ]
He followed Amanda into the dining room and gently set the strip on the table.
[ PC ]
Andrea had practically fallen asleep by now, sitting slumped in her seat.
[ CC ]
Quentin raced out of the kitchen and down the hall. "The ambulance should be on its way," he said breathlessly as he made his way to the study to see what he could do to help until it arrived.
[ PC ]
As Quentin ran down the hall his mind flashed back to a memory of his father standing in the door to his study, wearing his dress uniform. He had had a stern look on his face seeing Quentin sprint out of the kitchen towards the front door. "Don't run in the house!" he had barked.
The voices of confusion from the kitchen dissappeared as Quentin stepped into the study. Marcus was behind the desk leaning over his father, feeling for a pulse. As Quentin approached Marcus's hand slid away as he forced his eyes closed, his breath seamed to catch and he gulped in a mouth full of air.
[ CC ]
Quentin couldn't believe it. His father, that grand figure of vitality, *dead*? It couldn't be. It just *couldn't* be. Quentin grabbed Marcus: "It's too soon! Don't stop trying! Have you tried CPR at *all*?!" He thought back to what little he remembered about CPR technique. He snatched off his sweater and made a small bundle behind Dad's neck, making sure the head was tilted back.
[ PC ]
As Quentin rolled his father onto his back he knocked things of the desk to clear space. It took an effort, even with Marcus' help, Samuel wasn't overweight, but he had been a big, strong man, and all that bone and muscle was now a literal dead-weight.
Quentin noted for a moment the voices in the kitchen. Distant. Not here. Unreal.
[ CC ]
He noted it, then shelved it in the back of his mind to ponder later. More important matters were at hand.
[ PC ]
As Samuel rolled onto his back it was obvious where his injury had been sustained. His entire throat was covered with bruises. Quentin had seen the type before. The surface skin was fine, the bruising was *under* the skin. Last season, one of the dancers in the show had twisted her knee badly and this was what her knee had looked like.
[ CC ]
"That *bastard*", Quentin muttered. "Mom, check out Mr. Morelli. If he's alive, I want him to *pay* for attacking Dad. Just be careful."
Quentin took a great deal more care in adjusting Dad's head -- if there were bone damage, he didn't want to run a risk of accidentally breaking his neck or severing his spinal cord.
He began regular compressions on his chest, stopping every 10 pulses to blow 3 shallow breaths into his lungs.
[ PC ]
As he blew, Quentin could feel all the air just filling their mouths. Samuel's chest refused to rise. Perhaps the air passage was blocked.
[ CC ]
Quentin tilted Dad's head back a little more. He turned on the desk lamp and moved it until he had light shining down Dad's throat. He peered closely, trying to see what might be blocking it.
[ PC ]
All he could see was a streak of blood at the back of the throat.
[ CC ]
He gently sent a finger probing down, hoping to get more info on what might be causing the blockage, and perhaps be able to carefully draw it out without causing any further damage to Dad.
[ PC ]
Quentin's blood chilled when his finger almost immediatly hit a sharp protrotrusion of bone from the neck. The edge of the bone felt rough and he could make out other, smaller pieces of bone floating in the blood. It was almost as if the vertebrae has shattered.
[ CC ]
"Oh jeez. Oh jeez. This is beyond me," he whispered. He tried to forestall panic, but he realized that something had to be done *now* if Dad were going to survive. And he didn't know what in hell that could be.
"Marcus," he asked during the exam. "Do you know anything about emergency tracheotomies? Dad's got something blocking his air, and, if I can't get it out, we'll have to do one to get him breathing again."
"Never mind," Quentin continued in a rush. "There's probably too much damage for that to work." He whispered, hoping Mom wouldn't hear, "Oh, man, Marcus, I'm way outta my league. I don't know what to do!"
[ PC ]
Amanda was standing in front of the desk her arms clutched to her chest as she shook silently, tears brimming in her eyes. She looked about to loose her balance.
[ CC ]
Quentin's chest ached for her, but he was overwhelmed in his own grief and panic. Don't die! Don't you die on us!
"Mom!" Quentin barked. "Don't worry! Dad's not about to die on us, and the ambulance should be on its way. We'll make sure everything's OK, right, Marcus?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Can you get Alan or Alex, Mom, please? We need someone to check out this Morelli creep, and I can't stop what I'm doing."
[ PC ]
Amanda raised her head and looked over at Morelli, slumped against the wall across the room. Walking over to him, she stepped over the broken bottles and splintered remains of the drinks trolley. She leant down next to him and felt for a pulse. Quentin could here her muttering something, but couldn't make it out. Repeating it again and again.
Marcus eventually put his hand on Quentin's shoulder. "Quent." His voice was heavy with despair, "It's over." Glancing round Quentin could see Marcus's shoulders were slumped and tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Amanda stood, wrapping her arms around her and walked out of the study, her head down.
[ CC ]
Quentin stood also, clenching his hands into fists. He wasn't sad; he was furious. Frustrated that he couldn't vent that anger at anyone, he started pounding a fist into the palm of his hand, over and over and over again. Why'd that Morelli creep *do* that? Why'd he kill Dad? How could he have crushed Dad's throat like that? Dad was a strong man. Always was.
Quentin slowly moved toward Morelli's body, standing over it, trying to understand the whole thing. He wanted to punch that creep's face so badly, he could almost taste it. But that wasn't going to look good to a coroner, *or* the police. He stared at the man's lifeless face, hatred almost a palpable thing. He muttered, "Why in hell did you do this, you bastard? On *Christman* *Eve*, of all times?! Why? WHY???!!!!" Quentin started screaming at his body and couldn't stop.
[Quentin,Alexander,Jack]
Scene Started: Wed, 3 May
2000
Dateline: 5.45pm, Thursday, December 24th, 1998
[ PC ]
After Quinten had rushed out of the kitchen there was an uncomfortable silence in the kitchen. No-one knew what to say or do. Marcus, Quentin and their mother had gone to tend to Samuel and Morelli. Andrea had sat in the seat next to Andrea and was cradeling the sleeping girl on her lap.
Alan stood near the kitchen door hopping from foot to foot, uncomfortably. There wasn't anything he could do, but try and stay out of the way. He glanced up at Jack to see if he could tell what he was going to do.
[ CT ]
From the study, Quentin could be heard screaming, "Why? WHY???!!!!"
"Oh god," Jack muttered. He glanced down at Alan. The young boy looked up at him with a face that asked, "What's going on isn't what I *think* it is, is it? Because I'm just a nine year old kid who probably doesn't understand what's going on, right? Right?" Jack put his hand on Alan's shoulder and stared back at him with open eyes. They both knew Alan's fears were true, but Jack couldn't bring himself to say a word.
[ PC ]
Amanda came back from the study. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. It was obvious she was crying.
She glanced at Jack and Alan as she entered, and went through into the Dining Room.
Panda looked up at her as she entered, but her mother didn't seem to even see her. She had stopped ubruptly in the doorway, staring at the stip of metal Alex had placed there.
"Where did that come from?!" she demanded as she reached out and grabbed it.
[ MT ]
Alex glanced around at the others during the uncomfortable silence, unsure what to say or do.
[ PC ]
After a moments silence Amanda turned and practically ran back to the kitchen, where she grabbed a large carving knife from knive-tidy as she passed Jack.
Turning she went back out the door towards the study holding the metal plate and the knife.
[ CT ]
"Mom?" Jack whispered after her. Was that a knife?
[ MT ]
Then a thought entered his mind, and he mentally cursed himself for not having remembered sooner. He left the room, not answering his mother's question or concerned with the answer, and went to find his coat. Searching the left pocket, he removed a small blue book and began reading even as he headed back toward the study.
[ PC ]
Quentin's shouts, faded as he began to see the wounds on Morelli. The lolling head, lying of his shoulder. The bone in his neck pushing up through the skin. His neck has been snapped like a twig. Quentin crouched amidst the ruins of the drinks trolly that Morelli had crushed underneath him, to get a closer look.
Morelli didn't appear to have any bruising in or on his throat like Samuel. The only obvious wound was the near seperation of his head from his body. It wasn't immediatly obvious from a glance but it was as if someone, or something, had simply tried to rip his head of, and had tossed the body aside, smashing the trolly.
It had been a three foot high trolly. Morelli had obviously landed on top of it. Looking up Quentin could see confirmation. About eight feet from the floor above him was a splash of blood and a streak through it, down towards where Morelli lay.
At that moment Amanda came rushing in.
When Alex entered the study he saw that Samuel had been rolled over, the blood around his mouth testament of his passing. Quinten's hand was covered in blood, dripping on the carpet.
[ CC ]
His eyes kept moving back and forth from Morelli's body to the bloody smear it must have made on the wall where it hit. "I don't get it," he whispered, his voice hoarse after his earlier hysterical screaming. "Dad's always been a strong man, but not *that* strong. And he's *never* been like that. He'd never rip a man's head off, even in duress." His eyes became steely glints. "Then.... maybe they didn't kill each other."
"Goddammit, somebody else did this!" His shout echoed as he clenched his bloody hand into a fist. He started looking about more keenly, checking for other doors or windows, some avenue of escape for the true assassin.
[ PC ]
Marcus, the rock, was just standing staring at their father, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Amanda walked up to Samuel she hesitates for a moment before placing the metal strip on his chest.
[ MT ]
"I Hope this isn't too late," Alex said, and began reading out loud. "O son of noble family, Samuel Jameson, now the time has come for you to seek a path..."
[ PC ]
"Not now Alex. I need to concentrate," interrupted his mother.
Marcus looked on puzzled, not seeing what she was doing. "I'm sorry, we couldn't..."
Amanda seemed in a near panic, her eyes staring at everything on the desk at once. All the time her lips were moving silently. She placed her left hand flat on top of the metal strip atop Samuel's chest and brought the knife up.
Quentin and Marcus saw the knife for the first time.
[ MT ]
When Amanda told Alex to stop, he dropped his voice to a whisper, more for her convenience than to hide that he was continuing to recite. When he saw what she was doing, he quickly stopped and stared at whatever was going on, silent now. The book fell from his fingers, but Zen was not concerned with that anymore.
[ CC ]
"Ma! What are you *doing*?!" Quentin cried.
Jack heard Quentin's cry.
[ CT ]
"Oh god!" Jack thought, "distressed woman with a knife!" He started down the hall toward the study.
[ PC ]
Amanda dipped the tip of the knife in the blood pooled on the engravings on the desk and began tracing a pattern upon the back of her hand. Blood welled up and spilled from her hand onto the plate.
"...anan mero lipos mekata, mesorri lamanata tesro pelis..."
[ CC ]
Quentin's eyes widened. Just when did Ma join some freaky cult? He became frightened, wondering just what the hell was going on. Who else knew? Was this just Ma's thing, or did any of the other kids go in for this, too? He stared at Marcus -- did *he* know?
[ CT ]
Jack stopped in the doorway and took in the macabre scene before him.
[ PC ]
The swimming pattern on the metal suddenly swam red as Amanda gasped, a faint cloud of yellow colored gas escaped her lips and disappeared into the surface of the metal as she slumped to the ground.
[ CC ]
Quentin's jaw dropped. He stepped back from the tableau at the desk, his hands seeking purchase on *something* to help support him and his newly-shaky knees. He shook his head -- some sort of weird drug in the food? He looked about, saying "Did any of you see what *I* just saw?"
[ CT ]
From the doorway, Jack blurted, "Holy shit, what a mess!"
[ PC ]
Marcus started moving forward towards Amanda but froze mid step as four points of yellow light floated out of the surface of the strip of metal. The lights circled in the air about a foot above the plate spinning faster and faster util they were nothing but and smear of yellow and red.
The spinning seemed to stop, but the haze of light they had formed remained. A face seemed to lean forward out of the ball of light. It looked almost like Amanda, their sister, but different.
"You must hurry, my children," a voice whispered in their ears. "You must help us while there is still time. Find the Maker. Only he can free us. We Love you." And with that the voice and the light faded.
All that was left were the four brothers and three bodies.
[ CC ]
Quentin rushed to Ma's slumped form and checked for a pulse, respiration, anything.
[ CT ]
"Wow," was all Jack could say.
[ MT ]
Zen stared for a moment, dumbfounded. Then he snapped back to reality. "Holy #@%$, what was that? What did Mom just do? Does anyone have any idea what's going on?" He glanced around at the others, hoping, but not expecting, to receive some answers.
[ CT ]
Jack answered, "I'm beginning to think I don't know anything at all." Jack scanned the room, seeing it again for the first time. Broken bodies in wild dance steps frozen in time. Blood pooled in the creases of Morelli's clothes, swirled around the grains and cracks in the wood floor, filled the gullies where his father's arms lay on the desk. The vision of his mother still lingered behind his eyes. All of it new. All of it repainted on a canvas of the unknowable.
"We'd better leave it. The police will be here, and we're going to have to tell them something about...about this. But that strip of metal, we should keep that."
[ MT ]
Zen, still confused by the goings on, wondered about this. "It might be evidence or something the cops could use, or something from Dad's work. Are you sure we should keep the metal thing from them?"
[ PC ]
Try as he could Quentin couldn't find a pulse, or any sign of breathing. He clutched his mother's rag doll figure to him.
When Jack looked at the metal plate he could see the swirling oil pattern with a strange dark yellow streak swirling under the surface, occasionally rising and brushing the surface.
Alex's ears pricked. He thought he had heard something.
"That was the back door," said Marcus, "Who ever did this is getting away! I'm gonna KILL THEM!" He roard as he pounded up the hall towards the kitchen.
[ MT ]
Alex decided that immediate action was more important than guessing about the metal slab, and quickly followed Marcus out to the back of the house.
[ PC ]
As Alex ran after Marcus he could see him enter the kitchen and pull open the back door before running though it.
When he entered the kitchen himself he could see Alan sprawled on the floor climbing to his feet. He looked confused but unhurt. Alex hadn't thought Marcus had gone near him as he passed though the kitchen.
Moving towards the kitchen door it was filled suddenly by a distressed and backward's flying Marcus. Alex tried to dodge aside but disappeared under the mass of his furious brother's back.
From the Study Jack and Quentin could hear the shouts from the kitchen as Alex and Marcus hit the floor.
Quentin was still holding Amanda, overcome by grief. His tears falling on her face cluched to his chest.
[ PC ]
Next to them at the desk, Jack was standing hypnotised by the shifting, swirling patterns of the strip. Alex's comments still echoed in the back of his mind, not yet registered with his conscious mind.
[ CT ]
There was something else fixed in his thoughts. It was mother's words, "Find the maker. Only he can free us." The maker... the maker of what?
[ CC ]
Even as Quentin's grief held sway, the anger in him rose. "I'll get whoever did this to you, Ma," he whispered. "That bastard who killed Dad, who brought you to this place -- I'll get that murderer. I swear it." He lay her gently down to the floor, taking a brief moment to compose her limbs. Then he got up, one quick coiled motion, and sped from the room, aiming toward the kitchen where he heard the scuffling -- Marcus must've gotten the dirtbag!
[ CT ]
Jack let him go. He was sure they wouldn't find anyone. Whomever or whatever that had caused the scene before him was something that wouldn't be caught by Marcus's powerful hands. But Marcus needed to find that out for himself. They all needed it. They all needed to prove to themselves that they had done everything possible. That was also why Jack stayed and picked up the metal strip. He held it in his fingers for a moment watching the swirling pattern. It wouldn't do any good locked up in a police department evidence room. Laying the strip down for a moment, he hurried to the kitchen.
[ PC ]
Quentin ran into the kitchen just as Marcus and Alex were getting to there feet. Marcus looked about ready to bust a blood vessel as he leaped out the back door.
[ MT ]
Alex glanced over at Quentin briefly, shrugged as if to say "I have no idea what happened" and then followed Marcus out the door.
[ PC ]
Alan was standing to the side looking puzzled and rubbing his elbow. He looked at Quentin, tears forming in his eyes, struggling not to let them fall.
[ CC ]
"Aw hell," Quentin thought to himself, but he rushed out the back door, ready to help Marcus catch the murderer.
[ PC ]
"Mommy?" came a lost young voice from the dining room.
[ PC ]
Outside Marcus could be heard let out a scream of frustration.
Jack entered the kitchen and could see through the open door, Marcus on his hands and knees in the garden furiously pounding the ground with his fists.
[ MT ]
Alex watched Marcus, puzzled at his actions and what could have thrown the big man back.
[ CC ]
Quentin immediately scanned for tracks in the snow, hoping that enough untrampled whiteness was still around to give him a clue to where the murderer might have fled.
[Quentin,Alexander,Jack]
Scene Started: Tue, 18 July
2000
Dateline: 5.50pm, Thursday, December 24th, 1998
[ PC ]
The fresh fall of snow in the last hour had nearly hidden all traces of the snow fight Jack, Marcus and Alan had had back here earlier. Quentin could see a number of tracks coming from the house. Alex, standing just outside the door on the porch, Marcus's two sets. The first went as far as the first step. The second led out to where he was sobbing on his hands an knees fifteen feet away. Finally there was another set of tracks. Small feet, with an inch square heel, visible in the light snow covering on the porch. The tracks went out onto the rear lawn towards Marcus but had been disturbed by his enraged pursuit and Quentin followed them. Beyond Marcus the tracks continued for another few steps towards the back wall but seemed to just end about five feet from the wall.
[ CC ]
"Talk to me, Marcus!" he exclaimed roughly. "Who'd you see? Which way'd they go? *Help* me, Marcus!" He looked vainly for any glimpse of the perpetrator fleeing the scene. He listened intently for any faint crunchings or rustlings, in case the perp was hiding for now and waiting for the Jamesons to let up on vigilance before making a clean getaway.
[ PC ]
Marcus eventually looked up and pointed at the back wall. "She...," but he couldn't find the words.
[ CC ]
"She *WHAT*!?" Quentin cried. "WHAT happened, Marcus? What *SHE*?" Quentin was on the verge of slapping some sense into the man. Oddly, strangely dispassionate, as he raised his hand, he noticed the blood still dripping from it. It gave him pause, and a slightly cooler head. With an effort at calm, he walked to a large clump of disturbed snow and began to clean off the gore from his fingers, all the while coaxing words from Marcus -- "OK, what did you see? Was it a person? People? What were they doing? Where did they go? If we're going to salvage *anything* from this....this *mess*, you're going to have to talk to me." All this in a controlled, calm, even voice, clenching back his own panic, fear, and grief.
[ PC ]
>From the kitchen doorway Jack looked toward Andrea's voice and could see his neice sitting on the floor on front of the table, climbing to her feet, a puzzled and upset look on her face.
[ CT ]
Jack stuck his head in the dining room. "Amanda?" he called out. Jack scooped his neice into his arms and put on his sweetest face to ask her, "Where'd Amanda go?"
[ PC ]
All Andrea could do was point over Jack's shoulder into the kitchen. Tears started to well up inside her and she cluched tightly to Jack's neck, burying head head and her sobs.
"She ran out back," came Alan's voice from behind Jack.
[ CT ]
Jack strode back into the kitchen. With Andrea still in his arms, he took Alan's hand in his other. "C'mon," he said. He didn't want to let either one out of his sight. Jack led them to the back door where his brothers lingered outside. On his knees, big man Marcus looked helpless. But Quentin was storming -- trying to break though to get Marcus talking.
Amanda was no where to be seen. Zen was still there on the porch, and Jack asked him, "Where'd she go? Did she just run off?" Jack looked down at Alan, "Did you see her, Alan?"
[ MT ]
Alex had a thouht, but one that puzzled him more than it answered any questions. "Marcus, was it Amanda you were chasing, who threw you back like that?" It all seemed to fit, but not make sense. She might have made the footprints into the snow, but where did she get the strength to throw Marcus, or leap the fence? And why would she do so?
[ PC ]
Eventually Marcus seemed to relax, and the sobbing subsided. He climbed to his feet, the snow sticking to his knees and shins. "It...it was Amanda. When I got out side, she was about here. She, she just *looked* at me. And I was back in the kitchen. She was gone by the time I got back out here."
[ CC ]
Quentin shook his head -- none of this made any sense. Did Panda run into the murderer? Did she perhaps see the murderer behind Marcus (who then got coldcocked and blanked out from the shock)? Did the murderer kidnap Panda? Those thoughts roiled in Quentin's mind -- this was starting to sound like an X-Files episode. He simply couldn't imagine Panda having the strength or mass or *will* to remotely attack Marcus. No, it had to be something else. He grew heartsick at the thought that she might have been kidnapped.
Quentin looked toward the back wall, deep in thought. He looked from afar, not wanting to disturb the snow anymore, and examined the wall for signs of climbing or scrabbling. Did Panda try to run away from the murderer? And where in the hell were *those* tracks?
[ PC ]
Marcus looked at the wall and pointed at some disturbed snow, in line with Amanda's tracks.
Turning, Marcus began walking back towards the house. He hesitated for a moment at the door before entering. "Has anyone called for help?" All the strength seemed drained from the big man.
[ CC ]
Quentin stood up straight, his train of thought broken. "Oh, God. The ambulance. The police. How are we going to *explain* this?" He looked at the other Jamesons, stricken.
[ PC ]
Alan pulled on Jack's hand and asked, "What's happened? Is dad gonna be okay?"
[ CT ]
Jack replied, "Listen you guys. Mom and Dad are... well, they're not okay. But I'm going to try to make them better. I've got a lot to tell you about what happened, but not right now...in a few hours, okay?"
[ PC ]
Alex took Alan and Andrea through to the dining room, all other rooms would have required going right next to the Study. The seemed quite and Alex found it fairly easy to keep them amused especially when Marcus entered after ten minutes with a couple of Alan's books from his room. Andrea quickly fell asleep again.
Jack found a large freezer bag and buried the metal strip in the ice. Jack had hoped that Alan and Andrea wouldn't see he do this, but he remembered that Alan had seen Alex bring it through to the dining room and Amanda take it back out again.
Quentin went throught to the study looking over everything, trying to make sense of it as he imagined an audience might, an audience of police officers. It sent a shiver down his spine as he looked over the violence that had been delt Morelli. The blood stain high on the wall where he had hit before falling on the drinks trolley. The smashed decanters amidst the blood. And there over by the farside of the desk, another decanter, unbroken.
[ CC ]
He tried to imagine what must have happened: Morelli telling Dad whatever he'd had to tell them, the two perhaps sharing a drink, and then.....he just couldn't go on. Too much violence. Too many unknowns.
[ PC ]
The scatterd items from his father's desk, the pen tidy, phone, laptop, and that curious box with the single button and what looked like a speaker.
[ CC ]
Quentin checked the laptop to examine its security. If Dad had been logged in, and if access were still available, maybe there'd be some information about Morelli.
[ PC ]
The laptop was a slim design, it hadn't had any external monitor of keyboard attached, and it had been closed when Quentin had knocked everything of the desk. Quentin released the catches and unfolded to computer. It was off, as far as he could tell. He pressed the power button experimentally, but nothing happened. Quentin remembered somthing the theater manager had been ranting on to him a few months ago. He had recently gotten himself a computer and had gone overboard studying everything he could about it and how they worked. A naturally he had decided to share his wisdom with Quentin one night. Somthing he had said came back to him about a disk inside the computer being very fragile, but that there were companies that specialised in retreiving data from broken computers.
[ CC ]
"We should get this to a shop and see if they can fit it with peripherals, or retrieve what data's on it," he mused to himself.
Quentin then looked at the box.
[ PC ]
It was a small curved box, containing a speaker behind a plastic grill, with a button and a green diode light next to it. It didn't weight more than a pound.
The light that had been lit earlier was off now.
[ CC ]
Quentin put down the box gently, bit his lip apprehensively, then pushed the button.
[ PC ]
Quentin suddenly felt as if he had gone deaf. The mutted voices from the kitchen stopped suddenly and Quentin was sunk into a deafening silence. A gasp escaped his lips. He heard that.
[ CC ]
Quentin pushed the button a few more times.
[ PC ]
Each time he switched the device off it was as if his ears had popped.
With the light on, he said, "Heh. And I thought a Cone of Silence was supposed to be a lot bulkier. What next -- a shoe phone?"
With that, he pushed the button one last time, leaving the diode light off. He was very puzzled at this strange device, though -- he'd never seen the like in his life, and he wonders how Dad managed to get his hands on it. He stopped, suddenly -- Dad was working for the government....he shook his head. No, he didn't expect The Smoking Man to walk through the door...did he?
Looking over at Amanda and the knife at her side, he tried to figure out how to explain the cuts to back of her hand.
It was difficult to tell exactly, because of the blood, but the cuts looked to form a pattern of some sort. A long gash curving around three parallel cuts.
Marcus entered after about ten minutes. More composed. He handed Quentin a towel from the bathroom. "Here, for your hand."
[ CC ]
Quentin wiped the remains of the blood from his hand, whatever was left after the snowbath. He looked at Marcus and said, "Well, this is one helluva situation. And on Christmas Eve, too." He sighed heavily. "The kids aren't going to understand this. Hell, *I* don't understand this." The grief of the moment began to overwhelm him again, but he fought it down. "One thing for sure: we have *got* to stick together on this. You. Me. Jack. Alex. Once things settle a bit, we should probably call the other kids; let them know what happened." He sighed again. "Poor Alan. Poor Andrea. This should never have happened."
He pointed out the laptop and the box. "The computer might have some info Dad had on Morelli. Did you see Dad using it much?"
He showed Marcus how the Cone-of-Silence box worked, flipping the button on, then off, then on, saying "See? Just like in _Get Smart_!", and then flipping it off one last time. "Say, Dad wasn't some sort of government spy, do you think?"
[ PC ]
Marcus hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to say anything. "Perhaps we'd better leave it. They might notice it if it is gone," he indicated the laptop. Just then, as Jack was returning down stairs, there was a sharp knock at the door. When Jack answered it there were two ambulance technicians, "We've had a report of an accident here." Jack invited them in and lead them to the study.
"Jesus!" muttered one of them. They quickly cleared Quentin and Marcus from the room.
After about 5 minutes the fron door opened and in came a couple of police officers, one of whome began asking, gently the routine questions: who they were, had there been anyone else in the room at the time, had they known of any disagreement between their father and Morelli, and so on.
A couple of minutes later more police officers arrived and then some detectives.
The detectives took each of the brothers into the living room and asked the same questions again, where was Amanda, their sister, when all of this was happening; had they ever met this Morelli before; was everyone in the kitchen the whole time; have they ever heard of this place 'Al Amarja' that Morelli had a return ticket to in his pocket; where do they think Amanda may have gone.
An hour passed quickly as various people arrived and examined the house, few of them spoke to any of the brothers. The bodies were taken out. And a man dressed in a Navy officer's uniform entered, with close cropped blond hair, and a fixed gaze. He spoke quitely to the detective in charge, who seemed surprised at what he was being told. But after a minute he went out front pulling a phone from inside his jacket.
The Navy officer walked into the dining room to join you, and pained smile was forced to the surface. "My condolences. Your father worked with my office and we have special procedures to follow. We are taking over the investigation and will be taking you in for a medical examination. We doubt that there is any cause for concern, but we would rather play safe. A car will be here shortly to collect you."
[ MT ]
"What sort of medical examination is needed? Are we in any danger?" Alex paused to think. "Who was this Morelli guy?"
[ CT ]
Jack nods, "I think your right. We don't want to take any chances with our health. Mr. Morelli had a nosebleed when he arrived, and well...it sure got a lot worse, didn't it?" Jack scoped out the officer's uniform for a nameplate and sign of insignia. "Say, um..." Jack eyeballed the officer's rank, "...Captain, am I right?"
"Captain Tanberg, how long do you think the exam will take. I'm thinking about the kids, right? You got kids at home?"
[ CC ]
Quentin was baffled. "Medical examination? For what? If there's anything that might be of danger to the kids, I think you owe us an explanation right now." He peered at the officer. "And what office are you working with?"
[ PC ]
"I can only give you some answers just now, we have still to examine to situation ourselves. Once we have done that, we can give you more answers."
"The exam is fairly straight forward, a non invasive scan at one of our facilities. Very quick. Mr Morelli was known to us, but it would be better if we didn't discuss him here."
"As to my office, we are attached to a liason office to the CDC."
[ CC ]
Quentin nodded, even though he had no idea what the CDC was.
[ PC ]
Another Navy uniformed man entered from the kitchen, "Sir. No sign, but Morelli had lingering traces." Tanberg nodded and the other officer left again.
Tanberg's expression had darkened slightly at this news. "Our escort should be here by now if would care to follow me." With that he lead them out the front door and into the night. They were joined by the other officer.
All the police and ambulances that had been here ten minutes ago were gone.
A black, unmarked mini-van pulled up at the gate, with five more uniformed Navy personel inside. Three of them got out and went to the house. Tanberg climbed in the back first.
[ CT ]
Jack thought about the metal strip packed away upstairs. He decided to keep it secret until he knew that they could trust Captain Tanberg. In the meantime, he'd go in for the exam. It could be a tactic on their part, but the risk was too steep if there was real danger.
[ CC ]
Quentin made sure that the kids were as comfortable and calm as possible, amusing them with some minor contortions during the ride.
[ PC ]
Alan seemed facinated by Tanberg's uniform but seemed overawed by him and didn't pester him with the questions that were filling his mind.
Andrea had fallen asleep in Alex's arms as they had walked out of the house.
Tanberg only answered "I'll be able to give you better answers once we have conducted the examination," when Alex tried to ask more questions.
The snow seemed to have decided that it had had enough and the clouds were begining to clear. Patches of stars peeking through, glimmering faintly.
Tanberg turned in his seat to face the brothers, "I had better warn you, things are going to seem a little weird. We don't normally bring 'guests' back with us." A sly grin was creeping across Tanberg's face as he was saying this.
"You will definitly have questions after this, and I'll do my best to answer all of them once we've arrived. Oh that reminds me, our men will be collecting your personal belongings from the house and bringing them to you."
[ CC ]
"Wait a second," Quentin exclaimed. "Just *how* long is this examination going to take? The little ones haven't been fed, and they're bound to get restless if they're going to be cooped up in a clinic or whatever you have set up for a long period of time."
[ CT ]
Jack leaned forward and kindly added, "Captain Tanberg, you know you said it would be a quick exam."
[ PC ]
"It will be, but there are other factors to consider. Please. Be patient with us," is Tangerg's seamingly ernest reply.
Tanberg turns and ducks his head to look past the driver and out the front windsheild looking for something. Outside it is a cold dark Washington night. The minivan was an office district and it turned down side street between two towers. "Were just about there," is all Tanberg said.
About 40 yards down the narrow alley, a rippling in the air appeared right across the width of the alley. It looked like very hot air rising into the night. The van slowed as it approached but continued through it as the dark alley faded from sight to be replaced by a shaded car park.
The light was blinding after the night drive to suddenly be in day light, even in the shadow of some building. But unmistakably, up there was a bright blue vista, of sky brightening to a rising sun.
[ CC ]
Quentin's jaw dropped. He plastered his face against the van window, to confirm the light in the sky and the heat on his face.
[ PC ]
Oddly the brothers felt an excited thrill. "Yes! Don't worry guys, the transfer has some effect on your endorphins," Tanberg said with a huge grin on his face.
The look of thrilled shock on Marcus's face seemed reflected on his brothers as he fought to regain control of his emotions.
[ CT ]
Jack gasped as the thrill shot through his body. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed. Then, looked over at Alan. "Sorry," he excused himself.
[ PC ]
"Again! Can we do that again," chirped Alan, "that was fun!"
[ CT ]
Jack agreed, "Damn straight it was. What was that?"
[ CC ]
"Thank God," thought Quentin. "The kids will have *some* time of peace before we have to let them know what's happened to Ma and Dad. And Panda....what can we tell Andrea about her?"
[ PC ]
Tanberg sighed, "Another couple of minutes and we'll be there and I'll answer your questions then"
After a moment the van pulled away from the car park. The scene was one of urban desperation. Run down tenements, boarded up shop fronts. Derelicts curled in filth strewn door ways. The early morning light seemed out of place amidst such depression.
Tanberg leaned forward towards the driver, "Any idea where we came out?"
"Looks like 'points, Sir."
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This Page Last Modified: Sun, 19 Nov 2000
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